A Second Chance
by theNightElf
Summary: This takes place several years after Christine leaves the Phantom. ErikOC.
1. The New Girl

Hello and welcome

Hello and welcome! This is my very first fanfic, so be nice, okay? Before I start, or you start, I would like to say, first, I don't own anything you recognize. Second, for all you phans out there, this fic is for Erik. But drum roll I am not a phan, so there will be no Phantom coddling here. I can make him miserable before I make him happy, and I intend to do just that.

If you are a phan, and you do not coddle Erik, then my deepest apologizes to you for the previous two sentences.

Let's begin the story now, shall we?

Dear Diary,

Today, Papa and I met the strangest woman. Neither of us had any idea who she was, and, in all honesty, we still do not. But I think that we will have to know a little about her eventually, because Papa has decided to hire her as a singer. I don't know why; she is very good, but she's also very depressing. Just mopes around all the time; barely talks. Her name is Amy Eldwin, or something like that. She has a funny accent, so sometimes it's rather hard to understand her.

And, quite frankly, I'm amazed she said anything at all in the first place.

She brought with her a tiny, adorable, but completely stupid black kitten she calls Starlight, and a black horse she calls Fate. The only non-living things she brought are a black dress, a pair of black shoes, a black pair of pants, and a white shirt.

I know, I was shocked that the shirt is white as well.

Nothing more to say today. I'll write again tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

I hate that new girl! I absolutely hate her and I wish she would go straight to hell! Why, you ask? Well, here's what happened:

It had been a long day, yesterday. We were on our way to Paris, as Papa said, to "show off" the new girl. When we finally found a place to rest, at 1:00 in the morning, mind you, I obviously fell asleep instantly.

When I woke up, it was 3 in the morning! The stupid new girl was still asleep, but screaming her bloody lungs off! I never would have thought someone so quiet could get so loud! I couldn't understand what the hell she was saying, not that I wanted to anyways. It was in a different language, which might explain why she has such a funny accent: because she's not French.

I bet she's American. They're suppose to be extremely inconsiderate of other people's feelings.

Anyways, she would _not_ shut up, so I had to go and slap her. She woke up with a start and looked around with her eyes wide. Tears were running down her face, like _she _was the one who had gotten woke up by a raving idiot.

The worst part is that Papa said she still has to stay with us because of her oh-so amazing singing abilities until we get to Paris. Then maybe someone will buy her and take her off our hands. Then I can forget all about her.

Dear Diary,

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm almost glad the new girl came our way! Almost, mind you, almost. She still woke me up early this morning with her screaming. But last night, we had her sing for some big shot guys, and they loved her! They'll give us tons of money if we'll let her sing for one night!

Guess what makes this even better?

The new girl is really stupid. All she wants is us to feed her and give her a place to stay! Papa and I get to keep the rest of the money!

I don't think Papa is planning on giving her a lot of food, or a really wonderful place to stay. It's not as if she was specific in her demands. And that will mean even more money for us!

Maybe we won't sell her to someone else. Then she'll make us rich rich rich!

It was early one Wednesday morning. The Phantom of the Opera, a.k.a. The Opera Ghost, a.k.a. Erik, was leaning against a pillar in the opera house, lazily watching the two managers, Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre, come into the theatre. Firmin was holding a newspaper, looking completely horrified.

"What's the matter, Firmin?" Andre asked curiously.

"Here!" Firmin cried, shoving the paper into Andre's hands. "Read that!"

Andre read "that" and then looked up, still looking confused. "I still don't understand. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem? My dear Andre, did you really read what the paper says about that girl? Amy Eldwin? And she's coming to perform here in Paris in only two nights! That's the same night our new opera will open! And she'll take all our audience!"

Erik snorted quietly. Perhaps it was purely pride, but he seriously doubted any lone girl could take away all the audience for the opening night of the new opera. After all, he wrote it.

"Oh, come, come, now," Andre said impatiently. "Just because a girl is a fabulous singer, has been given phenomenal reviews, and happens to be performing the same night our new opera comes out, it doesn't mean we'll lose our audience!" He paused a moment. "Alright, it does look bad. I'll grant you that, but really, Firmin! Try to have a little optimism!"

"I am too optimistic! But I also am realistic! And this girl spells nothing but trouble for us!"

Erik's attention to the managers was diverted by the appearance of a beautiful young woman. He couldn't suppress a small sigh of longing as Christine de Chagny went over to talk to one of her best friends, Meg Giry. He had never fully recovered from his obsessive love for her.

Christine and her husband, Raoul, had been married for several years now, and since that time she had stopped working at the opera house. However, she still visited once in a while, so she could talk with Meg, who practically lived there.

Obviously, not literally, like Erik, but still…

Erik had once dreamt that Christine would come to her senses, and realize how much she really loved him, but after she and Raoul had their fifth child, he finally gave it up as a hopeless cause.

However, that didn't prevent him from wishing and wondering…

He crept closer so he could hear what Christine and Meg were talking about. Actually, just Christine; he might have thought Meg was a good dancer, but that didn't mean he cared what she said.

"Have you heard about this girl, Amy Eldwin?" Meg was asking.

"I read about her just this morning," Christine replied. "She sounds like a very talented woman."

"She'll be performing in Paris the same night we will. Mother is worried that some people will go see her instead of us."

"I don't think it'll be that bad!" Christine laughed. "After all, aren't all the seats already sold out?"

"Quite a lot of people of selling them back," Meg replied seriously. "And no one's buying those ones."

At that point, Erik had had enough. No matter how much he loved hearing Christine's voice, that didn't mean he wanted to listen any more about some girl who might take people away from his opera. Not that he thought that would happen, of course, but other people clearly did.

He opened a hidden door, slipped through, and started carefully making his way back to his "home". The booby traps he had placed throughout the labyrinth could be inconvenient, but that was a small price to pay for his privacy.

When he finally crossed the lake, he stepped out of the boat and sighed, thinking hard about what to do about that girl everyone seemed so interested in.

"Problems, bossman?"

Perhaps he wasn't really as alone as people thought.

Grinding his teeth together, Erik turned back to the lake to glare dangerously.

The small siren bobbed unconcerned up and down. Most men might have found her attractive, but to Erik, she was just a pain with some small uses.

"How many times to I have to tell you not to call me that?" He snapped in mermish—that was the only language she understood.

She shrugged her tiny, pale green shoulders and pushed her long, dark green hair away from her pale green face. "Does it matter? I'm not going to change what I've called you for years, you know."

Erik had allowed her to stay in his lake on the sole condition that she would tell him if there were any intruders. If he wasn't available, she would simply drown them. However, the gift of life wasn't really enough for Laetitia. She frequently invited her friends over, and there was nothing Erik could do about it. Now, normally, he really won't care, but the last time, they had all gotten drunk, and if twenty-plus drunk mer-people wasn't frightening enough, they also nearly flooded the opera house. It had been a very close call.

"And," Laetitia continued. "You still haven't answered my question. What's going on?"

"Nothing," He sighed again. "Everyone's just thinking some strange girl is…well…"

"Going to do better than your new opera?" Laetitia asked. She did a flip, waving her pale green tail in the air. "If I were you, I won't worry about it. It's not as if there's much you can do, short of killing her. Something of which I would not advise."

Erik snorted. "Why not?"

"Just because your morals are twisted, doesn't mean the rest of ours are."

"My morals aren't that twisted." He denied.

The mermaid rose one thin, dark green eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, she sank back down under the water.

Erik sat down on the chair by his desk and rubbed the left side of his face—the side not covered by his mask. Perhaps Laetitia was right, for once. Besides killing the girl, Amy Eldwin, or whatever Firmin and Meg said her name was, there wasn't much he could do right then. Anyways, all those wonderful reviews about her were undoubtedly exaggerated. There was absolutely no reason to worry. None whatsoever.

"Hey, bossman!" Laetitia had resurfaced. "When you're done admiring your reflection, maybe you could spare a moment to answer a question or two."

While it was true Erik had been gazing absentmindedly at a mirror, that did not mean he was "admiring his reflection." He never admired his reflection. "Of all the mer-people in the world, why did I have to get stuck with you?"

"Luck, I suppose. Now, can I ask you my questions?"

Erik tapped his lasso, which was laying on his desk. He imagined it hanging around Laetitia's neck. "Can I stop you?"

"No, actually. Now, the first question is: why do seem to be so worried about this new girl in the first place?"

"Because she's all I've been hearing about all day. Her and her 'amazing singing talent'. Maybe I'll kill her just so people will stop talking about her."

"That won't work—a murder will make them talk even more. Now, second question: do you really think she's so good? I mean, if people are making such a fuss, there has to be _some_ basis for it."

"Only Christine is that good."

Laetitia sighed. "Christine is married, has five children, and is expecting her sixth. Don't you think…"

"She's WHAT?"

Erik could feel Laetitia's glare on the back of his neck. "Let me finish! Don't you think this obsessiveness is just a _bit_ creepy?"

"No, I don't!"

"'Course not," Laetitia muttered.

"Now, can we get back to the important part? How do you know Christine is pregnant?"

"That's the important part?" Laetitia demanded. "I think you need to get your priorities straight!"

"Just answer the damn question."

"I heard it through the grapevine."

Erik finally turned around. "Laetitia, you'd better give me a better answer than that."

The mermaid's bright emerald eyes stared defiantly into the human's dark brown ones. "I just heard it, alright? Can't you be happy with that?"

"No. Amazingly enough, I can't."

"May I make a point here?" She asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "Christine is very clearly happily married. Her sixth pregnancy is evidence enough of that. Don't you think you should leave her alone?"

"She'd be happier with me!"

"I think Christine can judge for herself what makes her happiest. Now, then, to change subject, have you been practicing later?"

Only eleven months after the, as Laetitia called it, Christine Incident, Erik came to the startling realization that he was, actually, able to use magic. It was very helpful—he mainly could turn invisible, appear and reappear at will, move objects without touching them, and break into other people's minds. The last one he used most frequently, especially with Carlotta, the prima donna at the opera house. Not because he liked hearing what she was thinking, but while he was in people's minds, he could also talk to them, and that, coupled with what he said, always scared her, which was amusing.

Erik stretched his arms. "Not later. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind." Laetitia dived back into the lake, leaving Erik really alone with his thoughts. A popular theory stated that that was what had made him go rather unhinged, as it were.

The news that the tickets to "the Opera Ghost's new opera" were being sold back came as quite a shock to everyone, save Carlotta. Perhaps that was the reason Erik hated her so much.

"I always knew it was a terrible opera." She would claim in her Spanish accent.

Everyone else just ignored her, knowing it would be dangerous to respond.

With only a day till opening night, the entire cast and crew were going crazy with rehearsal after rehearsal. The fact that more people seemed to be going to see that Amy Eldwin did nothing, or very little, to dampen their enthusiasm.

"Straighten up, girls! _Now_ bend down! That's it! No, wait! What do you think you're doing, girl? Get back in line!" That was the constant stream of commands given by Meg's mother, Madame Giry. Once, a ballerina, new to the opera, had made the mistake of complaining where Madame Giry could hear her just before opening night. To put it mildly, she never did that again.

Everyone that day practiced non-stop from dawn till dusk. Even during their short lunch break, they would be going over where they when over and over in their heads. The orchestra would practice their fingers for their different instruments, while Andre and Firmin frantically tried to get people to buy tickets. With them, it was rather a hopeless cause: only three people bought the tickets, while quite a lot returned them.

On the day of the performance, this got even crazier than before, if that were possible. Madame Giry, not satisfied with the ballet dancers, had them practice longer than dawn till dusk. Selling of the tickets went even farther downhill; more and more people were returning them while absolutely no one bought a single one.

Finally, it was opening night. Erik, invisible in his usual seat in box five, looked on in horror. What started as a full house turned into less than half. Maybe only a third of the seats where full. And the people who were there looked like they wanted to be elsewhere. The Phantom didn't have to be the genius he was to know where that 'elsewhere' was.

To make matters worse, half of the dancers got so flustered at the lack of people that they completely ruined the steps they had for the past few days worked so hard on. One of the singers got so nervous, she lost her voice: all that came out was a strange croaking sound, not unlike the sound Carlotta had made when the Phantom had switched her spray-bottle.

Erik finally had to leave, unable to take the humiliation much longer.

Be nice and tell me what you think so far. In other words: review, please!


	2. First Sighting

Hello! This is chapter two, in case you didn't know that already.

Concerning the diary entries in the last chapter—you weren't expected to know who wrote them. You'll probably be able to figure it out after this chapter, but if you don't, don't worry about them. They were more like a prologue than anything else.

Does that make sense?

I, obviously, don't own anything that you recognize, unless you only recognize it because it was in the pervious chapter. In that case, it might be mine.

Then again, that depends on how well you know the Phantom of the Opera.

The next day after the opera fiasco, Erik heard just how that…girl…Amy Eldwin, did the night before.

"Can you believe it?" Firmin asked, waving that day's paper in Andre's face. "The reviews that this Amy Eldwin somehow managed to rake up. It's unbelievable."

"'Ms. Eldwin did a remarkable performance.'" Andre read. "'Her singing was superior to anyone's anyway. She is sure to go farther than anyone in her chosen career.'"

"Ridiculous, don't you think?" Firmin said. "No one has heard anything about her before. How could she have suddenly become so well-known?"

"Well," Andre replied, thinking hard. "Perhaps she simply needed someone to help her get onstage. Maybe she had stage fright and needed to get over it first."

"Oh, come now," Firmin said scornfully. "No one who has stage fright becomes such a famous singer."

"I'm sure there's one or two," Andre said fairly.

"Well, there's one thing I must say," Firmin snapped, grabbing the paper back. "Her manager, this Martin Tessier, must be making quite a handsome profit from her. Apparently, it was standing room only last night, and even then, people were squeezing together just to hear her sing a few songs. We weren't even mentioned once in this entire paper!"

"That might be a good thing," Andre muttered.

Erik listened in shock. How could this girl do so well? Even Christine wouldn't have been able to pull something like that off, and she was the best singer he knew.

"Perhaps we should listen to her ourselves." Andre suggested. "That way we can see for ourselves just what is so marvelous about this girl."

Firmin thought for a few minutes. "An excellent idea, Andre." He finally pronounced. "Though I do hate putting any more money in those people's pockets…"

"Very well. We should try to go tonight, though." Andre stated. "She's only staying here only two more nights."

"Thank goodness for small favors." Firmin sighed, and Erik couldn't agree more.

That night, as planned, Andre and Firmin were able to go see Amy Eldwin for themselves. They had no problems getting seats—Monsieur Tessier seemed to be more than happy showing off his singing sensation to the two opera managers.

Erik was also interested in how the two would react the next morning. He spent practically the whole night wondering that out loud to a very bored Laetitia. After he had gone on for six-and-a-half hours, she finally got fed up faking interest and dived into the lake, not resurfacing until late in the afternoon.

In the morning, Erik waited anxiously for the return of one of the managers. Normally he wouldn't give a damn for their opinions, but, strangely enough, he really wanted to know what they thought of this girl. Surely they would hate her almost as much as he did.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait for Andre or Firmin.

Christine ran into the theatre and, finding Meg, grabbed her friend by the arm.

"Meg!" She whispered franticly. "Meg, did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Meg asked, wincing. She tried to shake off Christine's tight hold, but failed miserably.

Christine didn't seem able to give a straight answer. "So," She began mysteriously. "Last night I went to see Amy Eldwin singing, and…"

"You did _what_?" Meg gasped.

"Yes, yes, I know," Christine said quickly. "But I wanted to see how well she did."

"And how well did she do?" Meg asked curiously.

"Meg, it was like nothing I've ever heard before. Even the Phantom…" She paused awkwardly for a moment.

Erik felt anger course red-hot through his veins. Singing was one of his few claims to fame, and this girl was taking that away from him too!

"Anyways," Christine continued, finally releasing Meg. "It was an absolutely amazing experience. And that's not all. Andre and Firmin went as well, you know, and they were extremely impressed by her too. And guess what else?"

"What?"

She lowered her voice. "They've decided to offer her a singing job here. She's coming in only a few hours."

Meg's mouth dropped open, and Erik was sure his did as well. These idiot managers just decide to hire some stupid girl because she could sing well? What if she, like Carlotta, couldn't act to save her life? She'd probably turn out to be exactly like Carlotta: expecting everyone to just fawn all over her and to get her way no matter what.

He very quickly made his decision—Amy Eldwin could not stay. One way or another, he would get rid of her.

Erik ran back underground, swearing rapidly in three different languages as he went. Not for the first time, he wished there wasn't the magical defense barrier he had set up a few years ago to prevent people from appearing and disappearing into the sewers. However, he had had too many visitors drop in that way.

Once he crossed the lake, he jumped out of the boat, and flung himself into the chair by his desk, knocking a few candles over along the way. He grabbed a clean piece of paper and his quill and started writing. Then he realized he had forgotten ink.

Upping his swearing languages to four, he dipped his quill in the inkbottle and started writing again, before he realized the inkbottle was empty.

By the time he had finished his letter, he was swearing in seventeen different languages, had successfully knocked over more than half of the candles, set three stacks of paper on fire by accident, and spilled ink all over his desk. To put it simply, he was not a very happy person.

He raced back up to the ground level to see a group of people crowding in the entrance hall. Two of them, father and daughter from the looks of things, had identical smug expressions on their faces. Everyone else was surrounding something or someone, hiding it from view.

Just as he started desperately wanted an explanation for all this, Raoul de Chagny walked in, looking just as confused as the Phantom felt.

"You called me, Monsieur Firmin?"

"Ah, yes," Firmin straightened importantly. "Monsieur, may I present to you Martin Tessier and his lovely daughter, Marie Anne? Monsieur, Mademoiselle, the Vicomte de Chagny."

Raoul nodded politely to them, but still looked confused.

"Monsieur Tessier is Mademoiselle Eldwin's manager." Andre explained helpfully.

"Ah," Raoul's confused expression cleared somewhat. "Ms. Amy Eldwin?"

"The very one." Martin Tessier's voice grated harshly on Erik's eardrums. He winced, before hearing another voice that countered it immediately.

"Excuse me, sir," Though she was speaking very softly, Erik had no trouble hearing her, as if she stood right next to him. "But my name is not Eldwin. It is Eledhwen."

"Forgive me, but that is what the newspaper said your name was." Raoul replied looking confused again.

"I'm afraid they got it wrong, sir." Continued she. "It is Amme Eledhwen. A-m-m-e E-l-e-d-h-w-e-n.

"I see. Thank you for clearing that up for us." Raoul's confusion had vanished again. Erik wondered idly how long it would take before returning.

"How did it get spelled like that, then?" Christine wondered.

"Oh," Martin Tessier laughed. His laugh was worse than his speaking voice. "We thought it would be better if we went with the normal spelling of her name. And…her last name is hard to pronounce, wouldn't you agree?"

Some people in front of her moved, and the Phantom was finally able to see her for himself.

She was beautiful; there was no denying it. Her entire body was tall and thin, but somehow that didn't make her look stretched. Her skin was not colorless, there was a faint blush in her cheeks, but she was still very pale, as if she spent little time in the sun. Her cheekbones were high, her nose was straight, and her lips were full and red. Her thick hair was as black as midnight, and fell slightly above her waist. Her light brown eyes were almond shaped and slanted. Though she stood utterly still, her body still convened gracefulness.

Everything about her seemed perfectly natural and perfect almost to the point of the unnatural.

"So, then," Firmin said slowly. "Ms. El-ed-hwen, correct?" Amme nodded. "Ms. Eledhwen, what do you say to singing opera at this theatre? We'll pay you twice your current salary if you do."

Erik felt a brief moment of terror. Then Amme said carefully, "I'm afraid, sir, that I cannot. Monsieur Tessier has been so kind to me, I'm cannot leave them just for money."

The Phantom frowned. Her accent was something he couldn't place, and he had been to lots of countries before.

"Oh, yes," Martin Tessier said in his grating voice. "We would hate to give up Amme after all we've done for her."

Erik snorted. The girl, or, more correctly, woman, was clearly underfed, and there were shadows under her eyes as if she didn't get enough sleep at night. He guessed they just kept her because she made them lots of money.

"Well, I'm sure we can come up with an agreement, don't you think?" Andre asked.

"What?" Andre elbowed his partner. "Oh, yes, of course! Just, come into our office and we can talk things out."

"You can wait out here, Amme," Marie Anne Tessier said. Her voice was exactly like her father's. Erik winced.

Amme obediently leaned against the wall, her head bowed and her hair hiding her face.

"How do you like it in Paris, Amme?" Christine asked timidly.

"It's fine," Amme replied.

"I suppose it's different from where you're from, correct?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," Christine laughed. "The look on your face when you saw the theatre! Wherever you are from, there probably isn't anything like this, right?"

"Yes, you are correct. There is nothing like this in my home." She said the word "home" with some longing.

"Where are you really from?" Meg inquired curiously.

"Ahsela."

"Is that a country or a city?" Christine asked.

"A country."

"I've never heard of it."

Neither had Erik, and he had the world map memorized. Perhaps this Amme had made it up.

"Most people haven't."

Christine and Meg shared a look. Then Meg said, "You miss it there, don't you?"

"Correct again."

"What was it like?"

Amme hesitated for so long, Erik started to think she wouldn't answer. "It is much more…natural than it is here. The buildings are made to suit the environment—to blend in more. They look like they've grown there, instead of being built. It's much smaller than France, too."

"It sounds lovely," Christine said simply.

Erik finally got bored enough with the three women talking. Luckily, just at that moment, the two managers and the two Tessiers came out.

"Alright, Amme. Everything's settled. You can start coming to rehearsals the day after tomorrow." Firmin said.

"Will that be fine?" Andre asked.

"Yes, thank you." Amme didn't seem very grateful for being allowed to work in the opera house.

"Oh, Amme, I shall miss you!" Marie Anne cried, flinging her arms around the other woman.

Amme stood motionless—it was probably like hugging a block of wood.

Her reaction made Erik even more irritated. The Paris Opera House was probably the best one in the entire world, and she practically turned up her delicate nose at it! Who was she to criticize it?

In reality, Amme was not "turning her nose up at it". She was actually very impressed with the theatre, but she was simply thinking about something else at that moment.

"Now, then, Ms. Eledhwen," Andre said. "If you need help finding a place to stay, I'm sure someone wouldn't mind…um…helping you."

"Thank you very much, sir," Amme replied expressionlessly. "But I don't think that will be necessary."

"Wonderful, wonderful." Andre said rather absentmindedly.

"I hope you won't mind," Firmin told her carefully. "But I'm afraid you'll have to be an understudy. We don't have any parts currently available, so you'll have to wait until we start a new opera. Is that alright with you?"

"That is fine."

"Wonderful!" Andre said happily. "We'll see you tomorrow, then!"

Amme didn't move: Marie Anne was still clinging to her.

"Excuse me, Marie Anne," Meg said slowly. "But I think you can let go of Amme now."

"Oh, yes." Marie Anne simpered. She still did not release the other. "So sorry, Amme, dear."

"It's alright," Amme replied softly. "But I would prefer it if you let go of me."

Marie Anne looked a little surprised that Amme would say something like that, but finally released her. "Oh, sorry again, Amme."

To a casual observer, to someone who didn't know her very well, Amme Eledhwen looked fine. Better than fine, actually. She looked beautiful. But that was to someone who didn't know her. To someone who _did_ know her, they would be able to pick out three major things wrong with her.

Number one, she was wearing a black dress. Now, the _black_ part wasn't unusual, Amme wore a lot of black. However, Amme only wore _dresses_ when she was forced to—she thought they limited her movement too much.

Reason number two: she was wearing shoes. Amme normally hated shoes. The reasoning was as why she never wore dress: limiting movement. And the shoes she was currently wearing had _heels_ of all things! For Amme in her normal state, that would have been a _big_ no-no.

The last and most important reason: her expression. Expect on the very rarest of occasions, Amme usually had a sparkle in her eyes, and her mouth was typically turned upward, like she was fighting a smile. However, now her face was blank, and when an emotion _did_ manage to break through her face, it was always sadness.

And…that's the end of chapter two. Review, por favor!


	3. Ghost Stories

This is chapter three, yippee

This is chapter three, yippee!

In chapter one, Marie Anne Tessier was, in fact, diary writer.

The only thing I own is my imagination, which I bought used at a second hand store for 6.79. And no one seems to want to buy it for seven dollars, so now I can't even make a profit from it…

Amme Eledhwen sat down against a tree and sighed. The tiny black cat crawled under her hand, begging to be petted. The tall, black horse nudged her shoulder, wondering what was wrong.

"I don't know, Fate," She sighed. "Everything, I guess. It's just…I wish I could go home."

_Well, we can't,_ the cat meowed. _So stop your moping, it's depressing me._

Amme laughed humorlessly. "So sorry, your majesty."

_You should be. Now pet me._

Amme obeyed the tiny creature.

"I have to go to my new 'work' in a few hours." She whispered. "You're lucky you don't have to do something like that, Starlight."

_I don't see why you don't like it. I always thought you enjoyed singing. Why should that change now all of the sudden?_

"It's different," Amme protested.

_How? You sang for that Tessier just fine, and didn't mind too much._

"It's just…" She struggled to find the right words. "It just doesn't _help_ people, you know? It entertains people with money, but why would I want to do that? It just seems a stupid way to make a living." She finished with a sigh. "Anyways, with Tessier, at least I could still travel around, if not choose where I was going. Here, I have to stay put, and I don't like it."

_I can't argue with that,_ Starlight agreed. The cat nosed her gently. _But complaining won't do anything, so stop it._

Amme entered the opera theatre with the same measure of wonder that she had the first time she saw it. It was, after all, a magnificent building. However, no matter how magnificent the theatre was, it didn't ease her homesickness. Strange that staying in one place made her homesick when traveling did not. Perhaps that was because when she stayed, she had more of a chance to miss her home.

Amme turned when she heard footsteps coming towards her. Meg Giry was clearly in a good mood, skipping towards the strange new girl with a cheerful expression, her long blond hair fanning out behind her.

"Hello, Amme!" She grinned—most definitely in a good mood.

"Good morning, Meg Giry," Amme replied politely, rather taken-aback by the happiness radiating out of the other.

"Just call me Meg, so I won't feel too guilty calling you Amme. It is alright for me to call you Amme, isn't it?" Meg asked, suddenly uncertain how the strange new girl would like being on first name bases with her so quickly.

"I do usually prefer Amme over anything else."

"Wonderful!" Meg's cheerfulness returned at an almost alarming rate. She resumed her skipping, with Amme keeping up easily. "I do hope you'll enjoy your first full day here."

"I'm sure I will," Amme said, slightly insincerely.

They walked, or, in Meg's case, skipped, silently for a brief moment. Then Meg said conversationally, "Carlotta, the leading lady here, as allowed you the 'honor' of being her understudy for the next few weeks until we get a new opera."

"Thank you for telling me," Amme thought a moment. "You don't like Ms. Carlotta?"

Meg shrugged. "I don't know if anyone really _likes_ her. She's rather spoiled, you know? And that doesn't endure a person to anybody, really."

"True,"

Just before they entered the theatre, Meg turned to study Amme. "You know, the longest thing I've ever heard you talk about is your homeland. Do you always give such short answers about everything else?"

Amme opened her mouth for a fraction of a second before closing it again. Finally, she said, "I'm not sure. I didn't always."

"What happened?" Meg asked curiously.

"That's rather personal, Meg Giry." For the first time since Meg had met her, Amme's voice contained more than a little trace of emotion.

"I'm sorry," Meg said hastily. "I don't mean to pry."

"It's alright," Amme murmured. "It's not your fault." Louder: "Shall we go in?"

Upon entering the theatre, Madame Giry greeted them by saying, "Meg Giry, what took you so long? I wanted you here thirty-three minutes ago!" Meg opened her mouth, but Madame Giry held up her hand. "No, Meg, I don't want to hear your excuses." Now she turned to Amme. "Now, I have some bad news for you."

"I already told her about being Carlotta's understudy," Meg piped up helpfully.

"That's not bad news, Meg! That's considered a great honor!"

"Considered," Meg repeated. "But it also means she'll be spending plenty of quality time with Carlotta, and that's something no amount of honor can improve."

Amme's mouth twisted up into something that almost resembled a smile.

"Hush, Meg. That's not what I was talking about." Madame Giry turned back to Amme. "The Opera Ghost has, I'm afraid, taken a disliking to you."

Amme's tiny smile disappeared. "The what?"

"The Opera Ghost! Surely you know who the Opera Ghost is?"

"There are no ghosts here," Amme said with certainty.

"Now, how do you know that?"

"I do, trust me."

Madame Giry shook her head. "Fine. If you must know, he's not really a ghost."

"Why would a man pretend to be a ghost?"

"What makes you think the ghost's a man?" Meg asked.

Amme actually rolled her eyes. "'_He's_ not really a ghost.' Most women are not called _he's_."

"That's not the point!" Madame Giry said in frustration.

"Perhaps," Amme concurred. "But, the question is: why does he dislike me?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Meg said happily. "Because you took away all the audience from his new opera! Which is, incidentally, the same one you'll be Carlotta's understudy in."

"So now the ghost slash man writes operas?"

"Yes, he does," Madame Giry said impatiently. "But the point is, he doesn't like you, so you have to be careful and don't do anything else to annoy him."

"Wait a second," Amme frowned. "How do _you_ know he doesn't like me?"

"I know this one too!" Meg sounded a little too proud. "He sent a note, correct?"

"Exactly," Madame Giry approved.

"So," Amme said slowly. "If I am to understand you correctly, an opera writing, note sending ghost who's not really a ghost but a man dislikes me? And I shouldn't annoy him…why?"

"Because he'll kill you. Actually, in his note, he was already sending you death threats. And you'd better hope he doesn't carry them out; they sound painful."

"So then, how should I not annoy this opera writing, note sending, over-reacting, ghost man?"

"Well, for one, don't call him that. For another, don't annoy or be rude to Christine."

Amme frowned. "Christine de Chagny? Where does she fit into this equation?"

"The Ghost was in love with her," Madame Giry sighed.

Amme waited, but that seemed to be the only answer she would receive. "Really? Absolutely fascinating. I'll remember that."

"And not to annoy him," Meg reminded her.

"And not to annoy him," Amme repeated. "Got it."

Madame Giry looked at her hard. "You don't believe a word we're saying, do you?"

"Not really."

"Well, at least you're honest," Madame Giry shook her head. "If you get killed, it's not my fault."

"Don't worry, I won't blame you."

Madame Giry shook her head again and stomped off. Meg watched her go with some apprehension. "I should probably go too. See you later, Amme. Have fun with Carlotta."

"I'll try."

The two women exchanged a quick smile, or, more like, Meg smiled while Amme's mouth turned up a bit. Then Meg ran after her mother.

"There you are!"

Amme didn't turn as Carlotta stalked up to her.

"Excuse me, girl, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Amme still remained stationary. Finally, Carlotta was forced to step in front of her.

"Now, come on! I have to rehearse, and you have to watch and memorize my every step and line."

When they reached the stage, Carlotta made Amme sit in the front row of the audience.

"Pay attention!" She called over her shoulder.

Amme crossed her arms, half-closed her eyes and put her feet up on the chair in front of her.

"Hello, Amme Eledhwen."

"Hello, Christine de Chagny," Amme replied, half-closed eyes still fixed obediently on Carlotta.

"Having fun?" Christine sat down next to Amme.

"Perhaps," was the brief response.

The two women watched in silence, Amme memorizing Carlotta's "every step and line."

"Do you like the opera?" Christine asked.

"It's lovely,"

"The composer would be happy to hear you say that."

"Even if he doesn't like me?" Amme asked innocently.

Christine shrugged. "If he knew you said that, he probably would like you much more."

"Interesting."

Christine looked at her carefully. "Madame Giry told me you don't think the Opera Ghost exists."

"She's right."

"Well, I can tell you that you're wrong; he does exist and I've seen him."

"Madame Giry told me that he was in love with you."

Christine sighed. "He was. He might still be, but I hope not."

"Really."

"Yes, that would just hurt him even more because I'm very happily married and expecting my sixth child."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. I don't hate him, of course, even though he stalked and kidnapped me. I mean, if I _did_ hate him, I wouldn't care about him getting hurt, would I?"

"I suppose not."

"Yes." Christine glanced up. "He watches the performances from box five, did you know that?"

"No."

"Yes, well, whenever someone is in there during a performance, he'll usually scares the person out."

"He _does_ sounds terrifying."

Christine couldn't tell if Amme was serious or not. "You still don't believe he exists, do you?"

"Correct—I don't."

"Why not?" The brunette asked, frustrated.

Amme didn't answer. Instead, her head jerked up at an impossible speed, and she scanned the theatre, frowning.

"Is something wrong?"

Amme shrugged, still looking up. "Is someone watching us?"

Christine sighed. "The Opera Ghost probably is."

"No, he's…she's…it's? I…don't know?" She phrased it like a question.

"The Opera Ghost is a he."

"So I've heard," Amme sounded annoyed, but not at Christine. She was now glaring at the theatre. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the back of her neck.

High above the two talking women, watching the rehearsal out of the corner of his eye, the object of Christine and Amme's conversation was busy eavesdropping on them. He nearly fell off the rafters when Christine had confirmed her pregnancy. It was more that he was surprised Laetitia knew before him than him thinking Christine and Raoul would…well, maybe he was surprised about that. If he were Christine, he wouldn't look twice at Raoul.

Then again, if he were Christine, he would be in love with himself, so maybe it was a good thing he wasn't her.

The fact that Amme did not believe he existed didn't astonish Erik too much. She probably won't believe anything that wasn't in front of her nose.

However, that she retained that disbelief after Christine had pointed out that she had seen him did surprise him. It showed that she didn't trust Christine! How dare she? What had Christine done to earn such distrust?

What unnerved him the most, however, was that Amme Eledhwen, though she didn't acknowledge his existence, still could tell that he was watching and listening to her. He knew some people had a sixth sense, but still…she seemed annoyed about something that was in some way connected with that, and frustrated as well. Her eyes were, at that moment, dancing around too fast for human eyes to follow, as if she was determined to find whatever was vexing her.

Thanks for reading; thanks for reviewing—when you do, at least. Tell me what you're thinking thus far!


	4. The Performance and what Follows After

To GerrysLittleMissSunshine08- I didn't mean for Carlotta to come across so nice

To GerrysLittleMissSunshine08- I didn't mean for Carlotta to come across so nice. I'll try to change that the nice time she comes. And I agree—she _should_ leap off a cliff!

Don't own anything, obviously. Course, I won't know what to do with it if I did, so maybe that's a good thing.

And…action!

It didn't take Amme long to finally memorize Carlotta's part in the opera. To be exact, it took three run-throughs and she had the entire opera down. That was a very good thing, because a week after Amme had become her understudy, Carlotta got sick and threw up onstage. Amme didn't even have time to practice her new part before she was rushed on.

Erik was unsure whether he was happy or annoyed with this situation. While he didn't want Amme singing the lead role in his own opera, which she ruined on the opening night, he was very amusing with Carlotta being so humiliated.

He supposed it was good luck Carlotta waited to get sick until the end of act one. Act two was shorter, so he'd have to put up with Ms. Eledhwen for a smaller time frame.

The first thing he noticed when she came on was how she looked. The Phantom hadn't realized before that Amme never wore make-up, but with it on, he could understand why she didn't. The make-up didn't make her ugly, per se, but it did cover up her natural beauty and made her more…human.

Erik wondered why he never saw how…inhuman her beauty was. Completely natural, for her, but inhuman nevertheless.

And then she opened her mouth.

From the first note, Erik fully realized why people had made such a fuss over this strange woman. That is, if he could think straight, that's what would have been it. From the first note, his mind blanked out, and all he could do was listen.

When Amme was finished with her first song, the thought that was stated in the first sentence of the previous paragraph finally occurred to Erik. He was in complete shock…his body trembled from head to foot as if an electric current had passed through him. A quick glance around revealed that no one else was having the same reaction to Amme's singing that he was. Amazed, certainly. Awestruck, perhaps. But none of them looked as if they had just been electrocuted. What was going on? Maybe he was the only one there who could hear properly.

Deciding it didn't matter, he focused his attention back to the stage, waiting for Amme Eledhwen to return. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long; she now was the leading lady and the leading lady always got plenty of time onstage. Though, he reflected, not as much as this leading lady deserved. Why couldn't Carlotta have gotten sick before the curtain went up? He was irritated with the prima donna more than usual now for waiting so long to throw up.

A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should be so quick to forgive Amme Eledhwen. After all, it was that beautiful voice that ruined his opera so much before. But the larger part of him was thrilled when she returned and started singing again.

Amme walked out of her temporary dressing room, feeling slightly disgruntled. Not at anyone, except Carlotta who had put her in that situation in the first place, but herself.

"Amme!" Christine greeted her when they ran into each other. "You did _wonderful_!"

Amme stared at the other woman. Couldn't she have heard all Amme's horrible mistakes? "I did awful," she corrected.

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," Christine replied breezily. "Now, there's someone here who wants to meet you. Just a second. Monsieur!" She called over her shoulder. "Mr. Eddison!"

Amme looked around Christine curiously to see a tall, lean young man with sharp blue eyes, pale blond hair, and a rather pointed nose.

"Amme, this is Joshua Eddison. He's from London, England." Christine introduced. "Mr. Eddison, Amme Eledhwen."

"You're from England?" Amme asked.

"Ah, yes, mademoiselle." His voice was sharp, like his eyes. "I don't believe you're native to France, either."

"No, I'm not," Amme agreed. "I'm from Ahsela."

"I've never heard of that place."

Amme shrugged. "How do you know Christine?"

"Oh," he looked rather sheepish, something Amme might have thought impossible before considering his haughty features. "We really don't know each other, but the manager, Monsieur Andre, introduced us, and I asked her to introduce me to you."

"How do you know Monsieur Andre?" Amme asked, smiling very slightly.

"We meet very briefly when I was in France two years ago."

"I see. I apologize for prying." Amme's small smile grew the tiniest bit more. "It was wonderful to meet you."

"As it was to meet you." Joshua Eddison turned slightly. "I'm afraid I must go now. Perhaps we can get to know each other better some other time."

"Perhaps,"

With that, he completely turned and left.

Christine looked up at Amme. "Well, he seems like a nice person, doesn't he?"

"Indeed," Amme concurred.

"I'm afraid I have to leave too, Amme. Raoul will be worried about me if I'm gone too long. Have fun with all your admirers!"

Amme shook her head before realizing all the people surrounding her with awe and, in the men's cases, love in their eyes.

Getting back "home" was a tricky business for Amme. At long last, Madame Giry threatened some people with her cane, and, in a few cases, carried out her threat. Amme was then able to rush out.

Amme's temporary home away from home wasn't actually a house or apartment. Nor was it a hotel, motel, or inn. It didn't have four walls, and it's ceiling was the night sky, while the floor was made of dirt, moss, and crushed pine needles. Perhaps not the place that you, the reader, would want to stay for a long period of time, but Amme had never liked sleeping indoors before.

That, and the fact she couldn't, at that moment, afford anything more.

And it was a nice place—except when it rained.

Amme sighed. That was exactly what it was doing at that moment: raining. Amme hated getting wet more than almost anything else.

She brushed her soaking hair away from her face and called, "Starlight!"

There was no answer. She frowned and tried again. "Starlight?"

Fate, who had trotted over to her side from the first call, neighed softly. _Starlight isn't here right now._

"Where is she, and what does she think she's doing?" Amme asked, annoyed. Usually, she wouldn't have minded, but tonight, she really wanted to talk with the tiny kitten.

_I don't know where she is, nor do I know what she's doing. _Fate shook her head and whinnied _she just disappeared._

Amme let out a deep breath slowly. That wasn't especially strange for Starlight; all cats liked being mysterious. But, mystery wasn't particularly welcome at that moment.

Amme weighed her options. "I could wait out here in the pouring rain for her, or I could go out in the pouring rain to look for her. One way or another, I'm going to get wet."

_We both already are wet._

"Fine. Wetter."

Fate tossed her mane. _If you want to talk to her so badly, I'd go look for her if I were you._

"Yes, well…I suppose that's what I'll do."

Before Amme left, she dug out a blanket she had managed to saved up to buy and covered Fate with it, so the horse wouldn't get too much wetter.

The path in the woods was dark, but that for Amme, that was fine, 1, because she didn't follow the path, and 2, she could see pretty well in the dark. But that didn't make it any easier to find a small, black cat.

The rain didn't help much, either—it washed away her paw prints, which would be hard enough to follow as it was.

Amme soon found herself walking along the streets of Paris, still calling out Starlight's name. Several people still out looked at her like she was crazy. One person in particular made an extremely rude gesture at her. Amme shook her head—some people were so impolite.

Unfortunately, that distracted her for a brief moment, and Amme slipped on the wet pavement (stupid heels). Steadying herself, she suddenly came to realize her surroundings—she was once again at the opera theatre.

The woman rolled her eyes—Starlight would never go there, she wasn't interested in opera in any way, shape, or form. Amme herself shouldn't have even come that way.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Amme turned and started to stroll back down the long streets.

She had just taken what she knew to be a shortcut back to the forest, down an alleyway, when she heard someone calling her name.

"Amme Eledhwen."

That was all, but it was enough to make Amme freeze. Slowly, she turned 360 degrees, carefully scanning the alley, but saw nothing that would, or could, say her name.

"Hello?" She said tentatively. "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer. Mentally, Amme cursed herself—she had probably just heard that voice inside her head. She started walking back in the direction of the forest.

Then the call came again, closer this time. "Amme."

Amme spun around. Again, she scanned the area, but still saw nothing. "Where are you?"

The response was laughing at her, she could tell. "I'm right here."

"All right, genius," Amme snapped. By that time, she was thoroughly annoyed, and slightly scared. "I can tell you're 'right here', but where pray tell is 'here'?!"

"Take a guess," the voice, wherever it came from, was certainly male, and was certainly laughing at her. He didn't even bother hiding it.

Amme took a deep breath through her nose and released it through her mouth, as her mentor, Sophia Súrion, had taught her to do when she got frustrated. "You are, without a doubt, the most aggravating person I have met since I first came to France."

"That hurts," he teased. "Especially considering the people you were with when you came to Paris."

"Now, how could you possibly know that?"

"I'm a genius. You said it yourself."

Amme took another breath through her nose and out her mouth in an attempt to keep her temper, which had not flared up in almost five months, in check. "If you are going to continue being like that, I'm leaving."

"That's alright, I'll find you again."

Amme, who had indeed started to leave, froze. "Excuse me? Who do you think that you are? How in the name of…how do you think you can find me again?" She paused. "Come to think of it, how did you 'find me' in the first place?"

"Are you finished yet?"

Amme considered for a few seconds. "I believe so."

"In that case, I'll tell you tomorrow."

"You'll what?" Amme's voice got deadly quiet.

"I will see you tomorrow night at ten o'clock in your dressing room. Then I'll answer all your questions."

"I don't have a dressing room," Still deadly calm.

"Carlotta can't get better so fast, you'll have to keep her part for a few more performances. Which is a good thing; you're much better than she is."

"Why do people keep saying things like that? She does fine."

"But you do better, so you'll be getting the lead role in the next opera."

She frowned. "How do you know that?"

"Tomorrow night," he promised. "Your dressing room at ten, by yourself. I'll answer everything as best I can."

Amme bit her lip, and then nodded before remembering if she couldn't see him, he definitely couldn't see her. "I'll be there."

"Good,"

After waiting to find out if he would say anything else, Amme finally turned and strolled back to the forest.

Starlight, it turned out, had been out hunting. Then, she got it into her mind she wanted to hear Amme singing, so she did head towards the theatre. When she got there, however, she discovered the opera was already over. She couldn't see Amme, so she decided to go back "home". She made it there only fifteen minutes after Amme had left again.

"That's what happened?" An incredulous Amme asked the kitten.

_So Fate says, and you know as well as I that she can't lie to save her life._

"So I did all that wandering for nothing?"

_It seems that way._

Fate whinnied. _Is something wrong, Amme? You look worried._

"I…" Amme shrugged. "I just…met a man when I was looking for Starlight."

_Oh!_ Starlight looked excited. _Who was he?_

"I don't know! I couldn't tell where he was!"

_And that's why you're upset,_ Fate inferred. _That's a good reason. Are you going to…meet him again?_

Amme nodded. "Tomorrow night at ten in…my…dressing room."

_Technically, you mean _tonight_, don't you? _Starlight asked. _After all, it _is_ after midnight._

"Fine," Amme sighed. "I'll…meet…him again _tonight."_

At nine-thirty, Amme was in…her…dressing room, finger-combing her hair and wondering what she was supposes to do for the next fifteen minutes. She glanced moodily at the door, hoping he would come early, answer her questions, and then she could forget about the whole experience.

10:00—there was no knock at the door.

10:15—Amme stood up so she could look into the hallway. There was almost no one there. Frowning, she leaned against the frame.

10:25—she decided that he probably wasn't coming, and he really meant the night after this.

10:30—she turned around and gave a scream. Standing right behind her, only three feet away, was a man.

He smiled. "Mademoiselle? I am the Opera Ghost."

And…cut!

Just to clarify, Erik is _not_ in love with Amme. Yet. He has determined she _is_, after all, a very good singer, and he doesn't _dislike_ her anymore. It's more like a crush—like how some people will get crushes on famous actors/actresses etc. But there's no actual love between the two of them right now.

Oh, and just out of curiosity, do any of you readers actually listen to me when I say review? I don't mean to be rude or bitter or anything like that, but I am getting a little, shall we say, discouraged? I know, I know, this is my first story; it's only chapter four, blah blah blah. I also know more than one or two people are reading this. Please, _please_ review! I don't know how many more ways I can say it.


	5. Juggling

And this is chapter five

And this is chapter five. Obviously. I just want to say one thing about it: the eye description didn't turn out at all the way I wanted it to. If you're confused about what I'm trying to get at: I'm sorry. If you do get it, then congratulations; you probably understand it better than I do. And I'm the writer, so that's really saying something.

One more thing—sorry about what I said at the end of chapter four. I've just haven't had the best week, well, month. Don't worry, I'll try not to complain about my reviews again.

And Erik will not be turning totally obsessive. Once again, don't worry. We hope gulp. I'll stop him before it gets really bad.

Now then, back to the story.

Amme stared at the man in shock. "You, you, you're…"

His smile became more pronounced. "The Opera Ghost. Or the Phantom of the Opera. Whichever you prefer."

Amme's eyes widened, taking him in slowly. His was perhaps two inches taller than her 6ft 4. Half of his face was covered with a white mask, which appeared to have been specially made for him, judging by how well it fit. The side of his face that wasn't covered, however, was finely structured—perhaps not the most beautiful man in the world, but would never have been considered ugly or even average. His hair was as black and thick as hers, and his entire air managed to convey nervousness and confidence at the same time, but it was his eyes that caught and held her attention.

They were, at first glance, black like his hair, but, when one studied them, one could see they were really a very dark brown. And the things the revealed! And didn't reveal! One could tell he was extremely intelligent by a single look! The strangest thing about them, though, was how, or how not, expressive they were. Amme could glimpse strong emotions behind them, but, like his face, most of it was hidden.

All this examination took Amme about two seconds. He barely noticed she was doing it.

"You're the Phantom of the Opera?"

He nodded. "I am."

She took a deep breath and tilted her head. "I don't like you," she finally announced.

At this statement, Erik immediately started cursing himself. What had he done wrong this time? "Why not? You don't even know me!"

"True," Amme agreed slowly. "But you're still annoy me."

"Why?" He snapped. "Because I surprised you in a dark alley?"

"Yes to part of that."

"Which part?"

"I don't like being surprised." She said simply.

The Phantom took a few moment to take that in. "If I apologize, will you forgive me?"

Amme tilted her head the other way. "Perhaps."

"I apologize for surprising you."

She considered. "Don't move," was her next startling announcement.

"Why?" Erik was both curious and suspicious at the same time.

"Just do what I say." With that, she turned around.

There was a long pause as she stood there with her back to him. While Erik was glad she didn't seem too terribly angry with him, he felt like he was being ignored, and he wasn't enjoying that.

Finally, she looked back at him, a frustrated expression on her face.

"I'm not going to disappear just because you look away," Erik said, miffed.

"Be quiet."

Amme closed her eyes, but her frustrated expression only intensified with each passing second. At long last, she took a deep breath, through nose and out mouth, before opening her eyes once more.

"Did you leave?"

He blinked. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm still here."

"But then," She paused a few seconds. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Disappear like that."

Erik looked at her in shock. Did she already know he could do that? "I didn't. I told you, I didn't leave."

"Not that," She corrected. "How did you…" she paused again. "What time is it?"

"Ten forty-eight." He replied. "Why?"

"I have to go. Starlight and Fate will be wondering what happened to me." She started to leave. "Tomorrow night at ten. You will be here, and we will talk. And so help me, you will _tell_ me when you've arrived!"

"Fine with me," Erik smiled, wondering who on heaven, earth, and hell Starlight and Fate were.

_So,_ Starlight asked as soon as Amme got back. _What took you so long?_

"He was half an hour late."

_Doesn't seem to be a very punctual person, hm?_

"Exactly," She smiled slightly. "Is Fate asleep?"

_Out like a light._

"You should be too. How much sleep have you gotten today?"

_Only ten hours._ Starlight stretched and yawned. _I _am_ extremely tired. I just wanted to hear what you would say about this man before I get my beauty sleep. Not that I need it, of course._

Amme shook her head—cats were so vain. "Of course not, Starlight. Go to sleep."

Erik stared at the blank paper in front of him. The music that flowed from his quill so easily just wasn't coming. He couldn't concentrate. Notes were jumbled in his mind, but with no rhyme or reason to them. Nothing was working right.

"Are you alright?" Laetitia asked, concerned.

"I…I don't know?" He responded. "The music just isn't coming to me."

"Oh, that's too bad," He heard her splash her tail in the water. "I'd help you, but I really don't write music, or do I have any intention of starting."

He snorted. "If I wanted your help, I'd've asked for it."

Laetitia dived back underwater.

Erik turned his attention back to the paper. Why wouldn't anything come? It just didn't make sense.

Slowly, he placed his quill to the parchment, and then hesitated. Even more slowly, he made a curved line. The line turned into an oval shape, perfectly symmetrical. Inside the oval, he drew two more curved lines, much smaller. From that came two almond shaped ovals, slightly slanted.

His quill went steadily faster and faster, until Erik finally realized what exactly he was drawing. He, once again, stared down at the paper, and Amme Eledhwen stared back, the corners of her lips turned up slightly as if she were happy to see him.

He quickly finished the portrait, and smiled back at the woman. He stared at her for another two seconds longer before the notes in his head fell into a sequence that he was actually able to write down and have sound like music.

Grinning, he set the drawing aside, grabbed another sheet of paper, dipped his quill, and began to write.

Amme woke up soaking wet. Groaning, she rolled off the branch she had been sleeping on. The ground was soft beneath her bare feet, but not in a good way. Stepping lightly, she made her way across to where Fate and Starlight were, still fast asleep. They were both wet, too.

It didn't take long for Amme to find the blanket, which Fate was on top of. She gave a few useless tugs, and then poked Fate to wake her up. Fate didn't even twitch. At last, Amme gave up and dried off using her white shirt.

Too bad it wasn't sunny out: the drying process would have gone a lot faster, then.

When she had unwetted herself as much as possible, breakfast was her next priority. At least, it was until she saw the position of the little sun in the sky. If she didn't hurry, she would be late for "work."

Running fast to the theatre was her best option to make it on time, so that's exactly what she did.

Just before she made it, Amme had to stop short before crashing into the man who had just come out the front doors.

"Oh! Ms. Eledhwen!" It was Joshua Eddison. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you,"

"No," Amme said quickly. "It was my fault. I should have been paying attention to where I was going."

"Well, perhaps we are both at fault." He smiled at her. "I wish I got the chance to see you yesterday."

"I was very busy, Mr. Eddison, so I don't think it would have worked out very well."

"Please, call me Joshua."

Amme blinked. A while ago, she would have called him that without him having to give permission. "Would you call me Amme, then?"

"Of course. So, since you seem in such a rush right now, how about we have dinner tonight at ten."

"At ten?"

"Of course—you'll need to perform tonight, won't you? Otherwise, we could go earlier."

"I'm afraid," Amme said slowly. "I have to meet someone tonight. But tomorrow night at ten will be fine."

Joshua nodded. "Wonderful! I'll see you then!" He strolled off.

Amme walked into the theatre in a daze. Madame Giry immediately swooped upon her.

"You're late, Amme Eledhwen!"

"I am?" Amme asked, still confused. "I got up only ten minutes ago. I think…"

"It's one o'clock, girl! In the afternoon!"

"I'm not a morning person…"

"I can tell," Madame Giry frowned. "Why is your hair wet?"

"It is?"

"Yes!" She practically shouted. "It is! Now, tell me why!"

Amme blinked, and shook her head as if to clear it of cobwebs. "I got rained on last night."

"I see. Well, you'd better hurry up and dry it off. We have a new opera, and the Ghost has specifically asked for you playing the lead."

"I suppose he doesn't hate me anymore."

"Unless he's planning on humiliating you onstage. Now, hurry up! We don't have all day, especially since you wasted half of it already!"

"I didn't waste it, I was sleeping!" Amme protested as she left to her dressing room.

The Opera Ghost had watched Amme ample in and wondered what had made her act like that. He was, however, very glad that she had taken a hint and realized he didn't dislike her anymore.

To be exact, he was in denial that he ever disliked her.

What amazed him the most, and made him the happiest, was how she had told him to see her tonight. She _demanded_ he be there. She wanted to talk with him some more! Despite what she had said before, he couldn't possibly believe she didn't like him now.

She wanted to see him again! _Him!_

And that thought made Erik euphoric.

Amme tapped her long fingers on her dressing table, waiting for the man with the mask to arrive. Hopefully, he would come on time that night, but as it was already one minute to ten, Amme thought it would be a long shot.

Maybe opera ghosts were always unreliable.

Precisely at ten o'clock, Amme heard a tiny cough behind her. She didn't turn around as she said "You're on time tonight,"

"I was on time last night," The Phantom disagreed.

"If you consider thirty minutes after the appointed time as punctual, then, yes, I suppose you where on time."

"Oh, I came at ten o'clock last night. I just was enjoying myself watching you, I didn't want to say anything."

Amme finally turned so he could see her frown. "You enjoyed watching me?" Her tone meant danger.

He shrugged. "You're an interesting person. You're different from everyone else; you do unusual things."

"How is combing my hair and leaning against a doorframe different from what other people do?"

"Other people would have left long before it was 10:30."

Amme's face lightened slightly. "Why must you be so annoying?"

The Phantom smiled, happy to see she wasn't glowering at him anymore. "I don't know. Why don't you just come up with a reason and stick with it?"

"Because I'm not interested with whatever I can come up with. I want to know _exactly_ why you do it."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so irritating to you. Now, yesterday night you said you wanted to talk with me some more. What do you want to talk about?"

"How are you able to just suddenly appear into…my…dressing room?"

"I'll show you sometime," he promised softly. "Now, why are you so averse to this being your dressing room?"

"Because I know that it won't be 'mine' for long, so there's no point calling it such."

"Do you not like it? Do you want another one?"

"Does it matter if I like it or not?"

"As long as you're here, you can have anything you want." His tone sounded like he was making her another promise.

Amme, sensing the conversation was heading into dangerous waters, quickly changed topic. "Why do you wear a mask?"

The Phantom frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't believe in hiding yourself, even if it's only half of your face."

"Our beliefs differ, then. I don't want anyone to ever see my face."

"Why not?" Amme asked curiously. He didn't answer, so she pressed on. "I, personally, don't see why you would. I mean, if you were hiding from the law, or something like that, wearing a half mask wouldn't do much good. So, my best guess is that you're hiding something actually _on_ your face, like a scar, or…"

"Can we talk about something else?" He snapped. A moment later, he couldn't believe he had stooped so low as to interrupted her. But Amme didn't seem to mind.

"I apologize. I should probably be leaving, anyways. I don't want to be late again."

"Wait!" The Phantom said desperately. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

Amme frowned thoughtfully. "Not tomorrow. I'm having dinner with someone. Will Friday be alright?"

"Friday is fine." He assured her, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Who are you going to dinner with?"

"Joshua Eddison. He wanted to see me tonight, but, of course, I told him I was busy."

Now anger was growing inside of him. "Did you tell him about me?"

"No, why? Do you want me to?" Amme looked genuinely confused.

"For right now, I'd rather you didn't. When the time comes, if the time comes, I'll tell him myself."

The first thing Joshua did when he picked Amme up from the theatre after the opera was present her with a bouquet of pink roses.

"Oh! Thank you!" Amme took them slowly. "You really didn't have to do this. I have so many flowers from being in this opera, I don't know what to do with them all."

"This isn't because of the opera," Joshua said, rather sourly.

"It isn't?" She frowned. "I don't think I can accept them then. You see…"

"We can talk during dinner," he interrupted hastily. "Come on, or else we'll be late."

The dinner was very nice, but Amme thought French people had some very strange tastes. Joshua didn't seem to think so, though, but judging by all he ate, Amme supposed he would have eaten anything.

"So, how are you liking France?" Joshua asked after he had finished his second course.

Amme swallowed the rest of her salad before answering. "It's very nice. Different, perhaps, but not necessarily in a bad way."

"I don't know about that!" He laughed. "Sure, the food is good, but some of the people! Rather odd, if you ask me. England is really the place to be, if you want good company."

"England is a nice place, too," Amme allowed. "But we really should not be comparing the two countries. After all, they are both wonderful places in their own right. Someone from France might perhaps not share your good opinion of England, just as you seem not to think well of the French."

"Well, you can judge unbiased like that, I suppose," Joshua said, beginning his third course. "Being from neither country. But I have to be loyal to my England, and the English and French have a long history of not getting along."

"But I know some others from England, and they have nothing, at least, very little, against the French people."

"Well, those people need to see a psychologist, then," he replied bluntly.

Amme frowned at her friends being insulted like that, but other then that, didn't dignify that comment with an answer.

He finished his third course before asking, "Are you ready to go?"

Amme nodded. She had been ready to leave for quite some time.

Joshua asked, received, and paid for the check. Amme stood up, stretching her legs. She had been sitting for an hour and a half in the same position, so she felt rather stiff.

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" Joshua asked as they left. "You barely ate anything."

She responded with a shrug. While it was true all she had had was a salad, she did not in any way consider that barely anything. Perhaps she just didn't eat as much as he did.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He tried again, but she just shook her head. "Alright, then. Can I see you again tomorrow night? Same time?"

Amme once more shook her head. "The night after, perhaps. You can come talk to me tomorrow during lunch, though."

Joshua smiled. "Alright! I'll see you then!"

And, that was chapter five. Yes, I know; I'm so observant, aren't I?

Erik's progress—Erik is now more than just "crushing on" Amme. It's turning into a more possessive feeling. Not quite to how he was feeling about Christine. Yet.

Amme's progress—To put it simply, Amme is neutral. Erik and Josh could fight a duel over her, and she won't care who the winner was. Especially since they really wouldn't be gaining anything by it.

Josh/Joshua/Eddison's progress—Not much to say about him. Josh isn't aware of the Phantom, so he doesn't know about anyone to be jealous of.

If you don't want me to do this progress checks, just tell me and I'll stop. Otherwise, I'll do them every once in a while.


	6. The Ghost's Big Mistake

And here we are

And here we are. Chapter six. The chapter in which Amme, for the first time in this story, actually loses her temper.

Erik paced back and forth, waiting for Amme to come back to her dressing room. They had been meeting there every other night for about two weeks. He didn't know why she kept allowing him to return, but she did, and he, for one, was not going to complain.

What he did know, however, was what she did on the nights she wasn't with him. Amme might not have been able to sense anything more than a want of friendship coming from Joshua Eddison, but Erik was not nearly as blind to his advances. There were other men, of course, completing for her attention, but she was aware of them fairly quickly, and ended them just as fast. With the few that persisted, she eventually just ignored them.

Eddison, however, was a different story.

The only thing he had ever brought her was a bouquet of flowers. He never talked about becoming more than friends; he never even looked at her like he wanted more.

When her back was turned, though, it was, once again, a different story.

Eddison would boast how she liked him better than anyone else, that she would marry him someday. Erik didn't believe that—Amme treated him like a friend and nothing more.

Unfortunately, his boasts never reached Amme, so Erik was cheated out of the opportunity of seeing her reaction.

What Amme thought of the Phantom was a mystery. After the first few meetings, she suddenly turned overly polite, the same way she was to everyone else, saying that she knew how rude she had been, and that she was sorry. Erik, who found her irritation at him rather amusing, was unhappy about that. He felt that if she treated him differently than everyone, while Eddison was treated the same, that had to mean she liked _him _better.

Alas, his theory did not last.

Just then, Amme entered. She barely glanced at him, but said to him, "Suilaid, Monsieur."

Erik blinked once. "Excuse me?"

"Pedich Edhellen?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're saying," Erik snapped. He hated it when he didn't understand something.

"I suppose that answers that question," Amme muttered.

"Are you going to tell me what you said?"

"I said hello."

"And then?"

She shrugged. "It's not important."

"Really."

Amme nodded absentmindedly. "Would you mind leaving? I need to change."

"I won't look," Erik assured her.

She looked at him suspiciously. He did his best to look innocent. It wasn't difficult; he was an excellent actor.

Amme sighed. "If you must stay. Don't you look."

"I won't," he promised. He turned around and closed his eyes.

After a while, he said, "Can I look now?"

"Not yet."

Erik, however, risked a peek. Opening his eyelids ever so slightly, he saw that Amme was, indeed, not finished changing her.

No, she was not completely naked, but she still had not put her blouse on. Sadly, for Erik, at least, not for the rest of his, her back was to him. Then again, he mused as he closed his eyes again, it would have been much easier for her to catch him looking if she was facing him. Much much easier.

"Alright. You may turn around, now."

That's just what he did. Smiling a bit, Erik said, "You look beautiful. You know that, don't you?"

Amme raised one thin eyebrow, but made no comment.

"So then," Erik said conversationally. "Did you have fun with Eddison last night?" He tried not to let the bitterness creep into his tone.

"It was fine."

He waited, but she made no other answer. "You've said that for the past five times I've asked."

"Have I? I haven't been keeping track."

"You have, trust me. Now, what _have_ you been doing with him?"

"Why don't you ask Joshua?"

"Because I don't talk to him." Erik's voice turned ice cold. He hated her calling Eddison by his first name.

"Well then, what do you what to know?"

"Did he behave himself?"

"What do you mean by that?"

He sighed. Did he have to explain everything? "I mean, was he rude to you? Or did he remember to be polite. Did he…did…he try to…" He couldn't finish the last thought; it was too horrifying.

"He was very polite." Erik felt a pang of disappointment. If Eddison had been rude, it would have been a perfect excuse to kill him. "Is that all you wanted to know?"

"Have you told him about me?"

Amme looked faintly insulted. "Didn't I promise I'd let you do that?"

"True," Erik admitted. "You did."

"Then why are you worrying?"

Because he wasn't used to people keeping their words. It was a rather unnerving. "I'm sorry. I won't ask again."

"Thank you." Amme stretched her arms. Then she bent down, touching the floor without bending her knees easily. Erik felt giddy watching her—she was so beautiful.

"So," He said when she had straightened up again. "I was wondering something."

"Yes?"

He frowned very slightly, unsure how to word his curiosity. "I just wanted to know…why you keep letting me come here, night after night."

"Is that all?" Amme sat down on the floor and, reaching forward, touched her toes. "Well, firstly, we meet every over night, not night after night, but let us put that aside, shall we? Secondly, I haven't asked you to come since the first _real_ meeting. You come of your own accord. Which makes me ask you what's the draw for you? If you can answer that, then I will answer your question."

So much for being overly polite to him. "I keep coming because I find you interesting."

"As I do with you." Amme stood back up. "Is that a good answer?"

"Is it the best one I can hope for?" He smiled again.

She tilted her head. "If you improve yours, I'll improve mine."

The very next morning, Erik was, not for the first time, leaning against a pillar, waiting. He watched the singers and stage crew and managers enter without really seeing them. Then Christine came, and he registered her arrival more than the others, but she wasn't the one he was waiting for.

Finally, Amme walked in, her face hidden by her wet hair. The Phantom wondered idly why her hair seemed to be wet so often. Maybe she liked it that way.

His good mood at seeing Amme was abruptly soured by Joshua Eddison right behind her. He whispered something in her ear, and she shook her head, smiling a tiny bit.

Erik bit his lip to keep from screaming. Whatever would come out of his mouth at that moment would have been without a doubt profane.

"Amme!" Meg skipped over, beaming. The girl was so bubbly, Erik was surprised she didn't float up to the ceiling and pop.

"Hello, Meg," Amme replied.

"Hello, Monsieur Eddison." Meg said to…guess who? Eddison.

"Good morning, Miss Giry." He replied politely.

"May I borrow Amme for a moment?" Meg asked mischievously.

"Shouldn't you be asking me that?" Amme looked confused.

Eddison chuckled. "It's fine with me. I'll see you at lunch, Amme." He turned and walked away.

It was fortunate for Joshua that he left when he did, because the Phantom was seriously considering what he'd look like with a rope around his neck.

Meg grabbed Amme's arm. "Come on, we have to rehearse!"

"You've never been so excited to rehearse before." But Amme allowed the blond girl to drag her to the stage.

It was lunch break, and Amme had promised Joshua she would meet him, so meet him she did. At first, she wasn't sure she would like to spend so much time with him—he didn't seem like the most agreeable person—but Amme grew to enjoy talking to him. And she certainly wasn't one to pass up a free meal—Joshua always insisted on paying.

"Hey, Amme!" He called, running over to her and grinning. "You look great."

Amme rolled her eyes. "You've said that before."

"Yeah, but I mean it. Really."

"How different do I look from this morning?"

"Not much—you were beautiful then, too."

She shook her head. "If you say so, Joshua."

"Okay, so what do you want to eat. Wait, don't tell me, a salad. Am I right?"

"You're psychic."

"Nah, that's just what you've been having every single lunch and dinner we've had together."

"In that case, you're observant."

Joshua chuckled. "You know, you can tell a lot about a person by what they eat."

Amme raised an eyebrow. "Really. What can you tell about me by my salads?"

Now he looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, you only eat vegetable salads, so you're a vegetarian, correct?"

She nodded.

More confident now, he continued. "People who eat lots of salads on a date tend to be fairly neat and organized people, do you think?"

"I'm not a very organized person, I'll have you know."

"Sure, Amme. Let me finish. You clean up all your food—just scrape the plate clean—so you don't believe in wasting food."

"Why should I? 'Waste not, want not.'"

"True." Here he paused. "Do you think that classifies as a lot?"

"I don't know." An amused expression lit up in her eyes. "That was only three things you said about me, and one wasn't correct. And the other one was on how I eat, not what I eat. That means you can only tell one thing from my salads."

"Yeah, well, there's one more thing about women and salads I can think of, but I know it isn't true with you."

"What is it?" Amme asked curiously.

"Um, I've noticed women who eat a lot of fruits and vegetables want to lose some weight, right? But you definitely don't need to."

"I'm glad you think so. Now then," She said slyly. "Do you want to know what I can tell about you based on your food?"

He chuckled nervously. "Not really."

"Good, because all I can think of is that you're not a vegetarian."

Joshua's chuckle turned into a full laugh, and Amme joined in.

High above them, the Phantom, hiding in the shadows, felt the disbelief and jealousy rise up inside him. Eddison had made her laugh? About _food?_ That was pathetic! If all their conversations were like this, then the Phantom had to come to the conclusion that Eddison was a total idiot. No wonder Amme liked talking to Erik—she needed some intelligent conversation.

But Eddison had made her laugh! What was so funny about that exchange? Erik tried to see the humor in it, but failed miserably.

Maybe Amme had a strange sense of humor. That was possible. But that could also be a problem. He had heard somewhere that women liked men who made them laugh. That could mean she preferred Eddison!

The Phantom frowned. This wasn't turning out well at all. If he wasn't careful, Amme would leave him with Eddison the same way Christine went with de Chagny.

"Amme," Erik said the moment she entered her dressing room.

She jerked around to stare at him, eyes wide. "Ai! Man carel le? I thought you were coming tomorrow night!"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to talk with you."

She held up her index finger, telling him to wait. Slowly, her breathing calmed down. "Alright," she sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"

This was not a very promising beginning. "I was simply…wondering about you and Eddison."

"What about us?"

He didn't like that she said "us". "Just…what do you think about him?"

Amme shrugged. "He's nice."

Nice? That didn't tell Erik anything. "That's all?"

"Perhaps. What more do you want to know?"

"Do you like him?"

"Yes."

This was not turning out well. Not at all. "How much do you like him?"

"Why is that any of your business?" Amme wanted to know.

Erik didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Are you…have you ever thought about…marriage?"

She froze. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, a beautiful woman like yourself, you have to have a hundred men…after you. Is there any reason why…"

"Why what?" Her voice was colder than he had ever heard it before.

"Why haven't you? Chosen any of them?"

"Why? What does this have to do with you?" She glared at him. Joshua Eddison made her laugh, Erik Destler made her glare. "Do you _want_ me to 'chose someone'? Are you asking this to see if _you_ have a clear shot to me? Is that all you've wanted?"

"I never said anything about myself!" Erik said hastily.

"You implied it!" She snapped.

"And you are jumping to conclusions!"

"Am I?" The room suddenly got very hot, like it was on fire, and the Phantom could swear the air around Amme had turned a light blue. _"Am I?"_

"Do you think I'm the only one to wonder that? Hope that you might _want_ me more than anyone else?"

"NO!" She shrieked. "I don't! But I thought that you were _different!_ I thought that you just wanted to be friends! Like Joshua!"

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to _him!"_

"Why not?" With a jolt, Erik realized Amme had a knife in her hands. And from the way she held it, she knew how to use it, too. "He's ten times the man you are!"

"The only thing he thinks of when he sees a woman is how well she'll do in bed!" Erik retorted, backing away from the knife. Briefly, he wondered how she got hold of one, but decided to think about that at a slightly safer moment.

_"How dare you!"_ Amme screamed. "Get out of here! _Right now!_ Don't you _dare_ come back!"

_That went well, didn't it?_ Erik thought sarcastically. _Well done, Erik._

Amme advanced on him with her deadly knife and a deadlier gaze. "I told you to _get out._"

Erik grabbed her arm that held the weapon. He was not so angry as to forget that was the first time he ever touched her.

Amme, however, was not so aware of the event. "Let—go—of—me! Now!"

Erik leaned forward. "I'll be back," He whispered. "This isn't over yet."

Progress report!

Erik- Besides being completely shocked and confused, Erik feels the same about Amme as he did at the end of the pervious chapter.

Amme- Amme is leaning towards Josh right now purely because she currently has some very resentful feelings Erik-ward.

Josh- Josh remains blissfully ignorant.


	7. Background Check

Just to remind you, Erik does have magic. I've mentioned it twice, but I need to make extra sure you know because it's a very important factor in this chapter.

This chapter is all about Erik finding out more about Amme. Learn about her friends, family, all that good stuff.

Amme walked home, feeling very depressed. She had thought the Phantom didn't want her because of…anything like that. She couldn't believe when he said Joshua just wanted to sleep with her. Not all men wanted that, did they?

No. Amme sighed. The only man who never expressed any interest in her in that way, besides her father, of course, was Kevin. And even if she wanted her best friend with her at that moment, he was back at home. Ahsela. She wanted to be there too. She wanted it so badly it hurt, like being run through with a dull blade.

And whoever was wielding the blade didn't have the decency to put her out of her misery. He just kept pushing it farther in.

Amme stopped thinking of Ahsela; it would only make her feel worse than she already was. She needed to face the more immediate problem.

Of course, Amme was upset she had lost her temper like that. The Phantom didn't wholly deserve it. She wished he hadn't mentioned anything about marriage, but it wasn't his fault he didn't know how she felt about men right then. She didn't want a husband; she didn't want a lover, or a boyfriend, or a fiancée. If he wanted more, then that was his problem. He'd have to find someone else.

What to do about Joshua, though? The Phantom's accusations had to have some level of truth in them, but Joshua had never said anything to her about sex. That was smart on his part—Amme was a virgin and had every intention of keeping it that way.

Actually, Amme was rather surprised he knew enough not to say anything like that to her. Joshua had never struck her as the brightest bulb in the bunch. The Phantom did, but he was the one to bring that cursed subject up! Maybe she wasn't as good at judging people as she had supposed.

Erik paced back and forth in the sewer, swearing in every language he knew. Which, FYI, was a lot. Before, he would never have had supposed just _mentioning_ marriage to Amme would bring out such a reaction. And now she didn't want to see him! So much for being careful. He'd have to move to plan B. He always had a plan B.

He sat down and glared at his desk. Right then, he couldn't remember what plan B was. He was still in shock about what happened.

"Laetitia!" He said suddenly. "I need to talk to you!"

Slowly, very slowly, painfully slowly, the siren's head came out of the water. "Yes, bossman?"

"What is the most sure way of finding something about someone?"

"Someone?" Laetitia glared at him. Everyone seemed to be doing that lately. "This 'someone' wouldn't be this Amme Eledhwen you've been talking non-stop about, would it? If she doesn't what to tell you something, then leave her alone."

"When did you find these new morals? You never cared before if I decided not leave someone alone."

"Fine," the mermaid said grumpily. "But the most sure way is not the easiest way."

"That's alright. Just tell me how."

"You remember how to break into people's minds?"

"Better than you do."

"Just go into her mind and…hunt around a little. But be careful about it; if she finds out, it could get ugly."

"Uglier," The Ghost corrected. "She's already furious at me."

Laetitia started to sink back down. "Is she? In that case, you're doomed. Good luck and good bye."

Erik shook his head. Laetitia was such a pessimist.

The next evening, he waited as Amme changed back into her normal clothes and headed outside. He followed her, careful not to make any noise. Luckily, he could turn invisible. Otherwise, this excursion might have been impossible.

He had decided to break into her mind when she was asleep. If, for some reason, Amme could stop someone from entering her mind, she wouldn't be able to do it as effectively when sleeping. He would just have to be careful not to wake her up.

Ten minutes later, Amme and Erik had left the main city. He had no idea where she was planning on going, and she showed no sign whatsoever of stopping. Where did she sleep? Did she sleep? Maybe that was why she always looked so tired in the morning.

Then she turned into a small forest. Erik nearly lost her then. She hadn't speed up, but the trees made it harder for him to follow. He wondered why she was going this way. Did she have a house here, or something? Or was she meeting someone.

Amme stopped, and Erik realized the answer to both his questions were the same: no. She lived there, outside. _That_ was why she came in wet so often. He frowned. Why did she live there? Didn't she make enough money to buy proper accommodations? Maybe she should come live with him.

He terminated that thought before it took over his mind.

"Starlight!" Amme called. "Fate! I'm back!"

A tiny kitten, looking exactly like a ball of black fluff, jumped onto her shoulder and licked her ear affectionately. On the ground, a black horse opened one eye and whinnied. Somehow, it sounded annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Amme apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you."

The horse grunted and closed its eye again.

The cat meowed, pawing Amme's hair.

"I just wanted to spend some time here. You know, I've barely talked to you the past two weeks."

She talked to cats and horses. Interesting. And people said Erik was crazy.

Amme nodded in response to the cat's meow. "I know. It's too bad, isn't it? But it's his fault, so there's nothing I can do about it."

Erik had the sudden, strange feeling they were talking about him.

The cat yawned.

"Alright!" Amme laughed. "I know I'm boring you. I can take a hint! I should probably get some sleep, too. I don't think I've gotten enough, lately."

This was what Erik had been waiting for. He watched as Amme swung herself onto a tree branch and closed her eyes. He wondered if that was the best place to sleep; what if she fell off?

Soon, Amme's breathing became deep and steady. It was time.

Slowly, he reached out with his mind until he felt the millions of other minds, including the insects and even plants. He was very grateful that he couldn't feel the creatures in the other four kingdoms.

It didn't take long to find Amme's. Hers was different from everyone else's. It was different from a human mind, too. It seemed more…spacious. Opened. Alien. But far too filled for someone who looked to be only nineteen or twenty.

Erik went farther in. Her mind only proceeded in getting stranger. It was far too wild to be human.

Amme wasn't human.

He came to that conclusion simply. It wasn't exactly a startling thing. She had always seemed different. This just confirmed it.

But what was she, then?

He went deeper until he found the place where her memories were storied. Amme might think she wasn't organized, but at least her mind was.

Erik entered the first one he came to and this was what he saw:

_He was in a large room, with a window that covered the entirety of a single wall. On closer inspection, he realized it wasn't a window, but there simply wasn't a wall there. Looking down, he saw he was at least three stories up. All around he were trees._

_He turned back to the room. There was a tall blond man holding up a small, black-haired girl. A woman laid on a large bed, a tiny bundle in her hands. Erik, studying the woman, thought she looked remarkably like Amme. To be precise, the only difference was the hair and eye color. This woman's hair was a brilliant shade of red, while her eyes were violet. _

_The bundle moved. Erik realized it wasn't really a bundle; it was a baby girl. He glanced at the other girl, who had to be Amme. She had a sister—he never would have guessed that._

_The family talked in soft voices to Amme, the mother, the new baby. But Erik couldn't understand the language they were speaking._

He pulled out of the memory. It had been very pleasant, but he wished he knew what they had said.

Erik chose a different memory and dove into it.

Three hours later, the Phantom had seen an Amme very different from the one he knew. The first difference, and the one he picked up on quickest, was that this new Amme flirted. And kissed. He must have watched her kissing two-dozen different men. It had been very scary, and every time he got horribly jealous of the man she was with. She didn't seem to go any farther than flirting and kissing, though.

Another difference: the new Amme _moved_ more. She was much more active, to the point she seemed to have trouble sitting still for long. The Amme he knew would stay motionless for hours if she had to.

She was much quieter now, too.

The people that came up frequently also seemed to be significant. There were five people who appeared the most. One was the baby—now grown up. He gathered her name was Emily, and Amme seemed very protective of her. For what reason, Erik couldn't imagine. Emily seemed able to take care of herself.

The next was another girl. She was different from the two sisters; her skin was more tan, and her long brown hair wasn't nearly as thick. He found out her name was Maria.

Another girl, who was called Veronica, was dark skinned and black haired. She seemed much more serious than the other three, but, when her laugh came, it was just as enchanting as the others.

The fourth girl was…interesting. Her hair was as red as flame, and her temper matched it perfectly. She seemed to be the eldest, but she still looked young. Her name was Sophia.

The last person was, unfortunately, not a girl. And, even worse, he's looks were perfection. His skin was paler than Amme's, his hair was blond, and his eyes were dark blue. He appeared so much, it was frightening. Erik would have to be careful about this strange man, who was called Kevin.

Those were the people who seemed to be most important in Amme's live, but Erik felt he was missing something critical. He still didn't find out why she came to France, why she had changed so drastically.

Erik decided to watch one more memory before leaving. Until the next night, that is.

_He was in a clearing in the forest he had come to realize was Ahsela. Amme was walking hand in hand with a strange man. He had wavy chestnut hair, and hazel eyes. His mouth was full and his nose was perfectly straight._

_He leaned down and whispered something in Amme's ear, which Erik realized just then were pointed._

_Amme laughed. "I don't think so, Erland!" She teased. "I'm not that easy!"_

_Erik was thankful she had started speaking English. He could understand English._

_"It was just a suggestion!" He smiled. "Clearly, it didn't go over very well."_

_"Not at all." Amme agreed. Then she became serious. "I wish you didn't have to go."_

_"I wish I didn't, either." He sighed. "I'll come back soon, I promise." He moved to kiss her._

_That kiss was different. Erik didn't know how, but it was. More passionate, he supposed, which meant, for him, more threatening. Amme appeared to be throwing herself into it, as if there was no tomorrow._

_When they broke off, she stared straight into his eyes. "I love you."_

_"And I love you," he replied, smiling again._

Erik yanked himself out of Amme's mind so fast, the woman stirred. His heart was pounding so hard, he expected it to explode at any minute.

Sigh. Aren't I mean? Don't worry, Erik; Erland won't come into the story for a while.

Does anyone want to guess what species Amme is? Have I given you enough hints about it?

So, anyways, I was rereading this chapter, and I was thinking _why do I only have this labeled as a romance story? It could definitely be considered also a fantasy. I mean, Laetitia's a mermaid, Amme talks to animals, and Erik turns invisible and breaks into people's minds!_ And so, I changed it. It is now a romance _and_ fantasy story. Yay!


	8. Hypnotizing

So then, to answer several reviews—Amme is not from another planet, per se, she's more from what you would call an alternative universe. And I swear you'll find out what she is next chapter. Trust me, you will. Really!

And Erik is not, repeat, _not_ an elf. He is 100 human.

Erik cannot kill Josh at the current moment. At least, it would be exceedingly unwise of him to do so. Because if he did, Amme would instantly leave to an uncharted island, and stab him in the heart with one of her many knives if he ever tracked her there. So really, that would put him in a lose-lose situation.

And Erik can sense this, hence the reason why Josh is still alive.

And about the spelling…well, that's what happens when I post a chapter without rereading it first.

It had been three days since Erik had first broken into Amme's mind. He got better at it after each time.

While he was interested in why she came to France, he refused to watch any memory with that man…Erland…in it. That probably wasn't the wisest decision, considering he might have a part to play in Amme's behavior, but the Phantom hated him too much. If he could find him, he'd kill him.

Learning about Amme's history was fascinating for Erik. So far, he had counted twelve marriage proposals, all of which she turned down, three people who had tried to force her into matrimony, and seventeen people who had tried to kill her in a duel. He learned that Amme thought of that Kevin as a friend, and a friend only, while he seemed to regard her as a cross between a sister and a daughter. Sophia, the redhead, turned out to be Amme's teacher, even though Amme considered the older woman as one of her friends as well. Sophia had the same regard for Amme as Kevin had for her. With Maria and Veronica, it was straightforward friendship, pure and simple.

Emily, Amme's sister, seemed to be the closest person to Amme. They seemed to understand each other perfectly, even though they were complete opposites. They even looked very different. Emily had curly blond hair, with violet eyes—like her mothers. She was a little shorter, her cheeks were rounder, and her skin was a tad darker.

Despite all their differences, their relationship clearly went deeper than sisters. There was more to it, something Erik couldn't quite grasp.

That was some of things he learned about Amme. What he didn't get, though, was how to make her forgive him, fall in love with him, and marry him. Maybe he was asking too much of her.

The answer came to him while he was playing the organ. Christine had always succumbed to his voice and his music. Perhaps Amme would as well. It would have to be handled slowly and carefully, though. Amme's mind seemed to be stronger than Christine's. It might take longer for her to give in.

Once she did, though, he could bring her down with him and keep her there!

Erik smiled. It would work. He just had to be sure she left her knife above the ground.

Amme walked into her dressing room. It had been a long performance, longer than usual, and she desperately wanted to take off this organ crusher people called a corset. Amme had never worn a corset before. Then again, she hadn't even known what one was. Now she wished she could have retained her ignorance.

She shook her hair out of its braid, and it fell down below her shoulders, wavier than usual. Then she finger combed it to remove all the tangles. Suddenly, she paused and looked around; she could have sworn she had heard a sigh coming from the walls.

Frowning, Amme stepped out and looked around, but no one was there. She shrugged, and went back in to rub off the 'make-up', as people called it. Before, she had known just as much about it as the corset. The difference? Make-up didn't crush organs.

When she had finished, she went over and opened the door. Only it wouldn't open; it was locked.

Amme scowled. This was not her day.

"What idiot locked the damn door?" She grumbled, feeling very put out.

Behind the mirror (of course), Erik chuckled. Amme was very amusing when she swore.

But Amme was growing more irritated by the second, so he decided it would be best not to delay much longer.

Back in the dressing room, Amme had found a hairpin and was starting to pick the lock.

"Come on." She muttered. "Come on. Yes! Yes! No! Damn it!" The hairpin broke.

Just as she saw another, unbroken one, she heard someone singing. She paused to listen closer, and immediately wished she hadn't. Because as soon as she started paying attention, she could feel her conciseness slip away from her. No, she wasn't falling asleep. But her mind was blanking out, until all she could hear was the singing.

Amme, being a fighter by nature, naturally fought it. But she knew a losing battle when she saw—or heard—one. And this was definitely one of them.

She swore twice more before giving up. Sinking to the floor, she focused her attention purely on the music.

Back behind the mirror, Erik had to force himself not to laugh again. This turned out to be easily than Christine.

Unfortunately, even the best-laid strategies don't go as planned.

There was a knock on the door. "Amme?" Eddison called. "Amme, are you in there?"

Amme jerked herself out of her reverie alarmingly quickly. "Um, yes. Yes, I am, but the door's locked. I can't get out."

"Where's the key?" He asked.

"I have no idea."

"I'll find it, Amme." Eddison promised. "I'll get you out."

Erik rolled his eyes. They won't find the key—he had it. And he had no intention of giving it back.

Amme must not have been too confident with Eddison's finding key skills either, because she said, "It's alright, Joshua. I can always pick the lock."

"You shouldn't pick locks, Amme." Joshua said sternly. "That's something criminals do."

"I think we can make an exception, just this once."

"Let me find the key before you do anything illegal, Amme."

Amme didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed her second hairpin, and started playing with the lock again.

"Oh, no, you don't," Erik whispered. Confident Eddison was gone by now, he started singing once more.

Amme dropped the pin and her eyes glazed over as she listened intently.

"Amme?"

It was Eddison again. Erik cursed him in every language he knew.

"Yes?"

"I can't find the key, so, maybe we could wait until tomorrow, and…"

There was a click, and the door swung open.

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Amme said sweetly, waving her hairpin in Eddison's dumbstruck face.

Erik sighed as the two others left. He was the one who would have to wait until tomorrow.

_What took you so long?_ Was the first thing out of Starlight's mouth when Amme returned.

"It's nice to see you too."

_Oh, come on, Amme. I've been worrying you got kidnapped or something._

"Why would anyone here want to kidnap _me_ of all people? I was locked in my dressing room, and that moron, Joshua, couldn't find the key. Didn't want me to pick the lock, either, but I did that anyways."

Erik chuckled at hearing her call Eddison a moron. That made him feel better than he had in months.

_I'm glad you got out._ Starlight meowed. She nosed her friend. _I missed you. Don't do that again, okay?_

"I'll try not to." Amme sighed. "But it really wasn't my fault."

_It wasn't Emily's fault, either, and you know what happened to her._

Amme glared at the kitten. "That was low."

_I know. I'm sorry. Just don't let the same thing happen to you. _

"I'm going to sleep." Amme announced instead.

Erik, who had only understood Amme's part of the conversation, was very glad for this. He wanted to go intrude her mind again.

_It appeared to be a teenage Amme with Sophia, who looked the exact same as always. They were both holding swords. Sophia appeared to be instructing Amme on what to do. Amme nodded, and then—_

There was a loud scream, and Erik wretched himself out of the memory. Amme, the real Amme, fell out of the tree, still screaming, still asleep. The language she used was the same as the one in most of her memories. In other words, Erik didn't have a clue what she was saying.

Both the cat and the horse woke up, and the cat, seeing what was going on, streaked across the ground to where the woman lay, still twitching and shrieking. The cat unsheathed its claws and raked Amme across the cheek. She woke with a start.

Erik, seeing the tears in her eyes, was about to kill the blasted cat, when Amme pulled it into an embrace.

"Thank you," She whispered.

The cat meowed something. Amme nodded. "Yes, worse than usual."

The horse nudged her shoulder while the cat licked her cheek where it had scratched her.

Amme gently put it down. "I'm alright, now." She stood up. "I'm not going to be able to get any sleep tonight. I'm going running."

And that's just what she did.

"Amme!"

Amme turned at the sound of her name. Meg, not for the first time, skipped up to her. Christine was trailing behind, looking amused.

"Amme, Amme, Amme, Amme!" Meg sang.

Amme smiled. "It's nice to see you too."

"I'm sorry," Christine said. "Madame Giry says she had too much sugar this morning."

"I can see that."

Meg was now jumping up and down, clapping her hands. "We get to practice and rehearse today! It's going to be fun, and we'll all have a fun time!" She started hugging Carlotta, who had just appeared looking more cross than usual.

Amme and Christine made a hasty retreat into the theatre.

"Christine?" Amme asked. "I have a…rather personal question for you."

"That's alright." Christine smiled at her. "We're friends, aren't we?"

The other blinked. "Oh! Yes! Yes, we are friends." She looked at her hands before saying, "I have a question about you…and the Phantom of the Opera."

"Do you finally believe in him?" Christine said it like a joke, but her eyes were serious.

Amme laughed nervously. "I don't think I have much of a choice, anymore."

"You've seen him." Christine summarized.

"Yes, we've been…meeting each other for about two weeks."

Christine shook her head. "You really shouldn't do that. It could be dangerous."

"We're not meeting anymore." Amme said quickly. "It's just…he isn't the type of person to give up very easily, is he?"

"No, he's not."

"The thing is…I…I've had this…feeling lately that someone is…watching me. I probably just being paranoid, but…"

"Amme," Christine sighed. "Has he made a move on you?"

"I thought he did. I'm not so sure anymore. And I've had the…feeling since we got into an…argument."

"Argument? You had an argument with the Opera Ghost? As in…did you yell at him?"

"Yes." Amme blushed. "And…threatened him."

"Threatened him." Christine repeated faintly.

"I had a dagger."

Christine sighed. "I wonder how many times that's happened to him."

"The thing is, Christine, if he is following me, I really want him to stop. But I also want to tell him how sorry I am that I…yelled." She finished lamely.

Christine shook her head again. "I don't know if I'm the right person to go to about this, Amme. I just wanted him to leave Raoul and me alone."

"I understand. Thank you." Amme decided not to tell Christine about her suspicions with the singer in her dressing room.

Just then, a very annoyed Carlotta entered the room.

"I have finally returned from my sickness!" She announced. "Now I can retake the lead!" She finished with a glare in Amme's direction.

Amme pursed her lips together. She didn't ask for the lead, she never even _wanted_ the lead. In her opinion, she wasn't nearly good enough.

Then again, there was only one thing Amme thought she was good at, and it had nothing to do with singing.

"But, Signora Carlotta," Madame Giry said, frowning. "I'm afraid the Opera Ghost wants Ms. Eledhwen to play the lead."

"Changed his mind about her, has he?" Carlotta sneered. "Anyways, I don't care what he thinks. I'm the prima donna, and that's that."

That evening, Amme got locked in her blasted dressing room again. She considered breaking down the door, and dealing with the consequences, namely angry managers, later. Hearing the singing again, however, made up her mind for her, and she sat down, listening in a trance.

Erik, however, didn't bother getting upset when Eddison came to get her again, ruining the trance and allowing her to pick the lock. He had a plan to bring her back with him that was almost foolproof. He just had to wait one more night…

One more night. Go, Erik, go!

Ahem…

Next chapter will be posted soon. I promise! And Erland, who I introduced you to the pervious chapter, will not be coming in for a bit. He will though, don't you worry about that.


	9. The Chapter I Was Too Lazy To Name

Erik was annoyed. Not because those two idiot managers had, once again, ignored his requests, nor because Carlotta was to be playing the lead in his opera. No, he was annoyed because that stupid siren wasn't answering him.

"Laetitia! Get over here _right now!"_

She popped up. "Won't!" Then popped right back down.

"Laetitia, I'm warning you!"

Up. "Don't care!" Back down.

The man gritted his teeth together. "I just want to _talk _to you!"

"About what?"

This time she didn't go back down. Erik relaxed very slightly. "About Amme."

"No!" Down once more.

He growled. "I just need to know one damn thing!"

Her tail waved in the air and splashed the water.

Erik shook his dripping hair out of his eyes. "I just need to know what she is!"

That caught Laetitia's attention. Slowly, she rose to the surface. "I thought she was human."

"I thought so too, at first, but she most definitely is not!"

"So? What do you want from me?"

"What are some different species that _look_ human, but aren't?"

Laetitia shrugged. "Vampires?"

Erik snorted. "I highly doubt she's a vampire."

"Pixies? Elves? Fairies?"

"I highly doubt those ones, too. After all, aren't pixies and elves supposed to be very short? And fairies have wings. Amme is not short, nor does she have wings."

"If you know so much, then decide what she is by yourself. Or, better yet, why don't you ask her? Then you'll know for certain." Laetitia dived back underwater without waiting for an answer.

Amme was, once again, an understudy. Carlotta made sure of that. And she wasn't even the prima donna's understudy anymore; she was Meg's. Why Meg needed an understudy was a mystery to Amme. But she didn't complain. She preferred being with the ballet girl than Carlotta.

"You don't have to worry about anything tonight, Amme." Meg informed her. "Just sit back and enjoy the opera as an audience member. I wish you were still the lead, though. You're better than Carlotta."

"Don't tell her you said that," Amme smiled.

"It doesn't matter. She would never believe someone would say something like that."

Amme shrugged. "True."

Meg glanced back onstage. "I'm on now. See you later!" She hurried off.

"Um, Ms. Eledhwen?"

Amme turned. A nervous little ballet girl was standing there, holding something.

"Yes?" Amme asked.

"I was told to give you this." She offered the 'something', which turned out to be a red rose.

"Thank you, but there must be some mistake. I'm not performing tonight." Amme tried to give the rose back.

"Are you Amme Eledhwen?"

"Yes, but…"

"The man said _specifically_ to give the rose and the note to Amme Eledhwen."

"Note?" Amme looked down. There was, indeed, a note attached to the ribbon tied around the stem. She took it off and read it. It was written in an unfamiliar hand, and there were only two words:

Just wait.

Amme tilted her head back and forth. Just wait? Just wait for what? Was it suppose to be encouraging or a threat?

Just then, there was a scream. Then more screams, until the screams turned into a deafening roar.

Amme's head jerked up. Over a thousand rats were pouring onto the stage and into the audience. The majority of them seemed to be congregating around Carlotta, trying to bite her fingers off.

Strangely, not one went near her.

A usually large rat finally managed to jump up and bite Carlotta's fingers. She shrieked even louder and tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't let go. Crying, she ran off the stage.

In the midst of the chaos, Amme heard a voice above the rest. Though he was singing softly, he drowned out the other voices.

In Amme's mind, at least.

_Come to me._

Amme stood. If she could think, she'd be wondering where this was leading.

_Come to me._

She walked, uncertain of where she was going.

_Come to me. Come quickly._

Her pace obediently sped up. She passed the actors and the ballerinas. She passed screaming members of the audience without seeing or hearing them.

_Come to me._

The voice was sounding more eager. In her heart, Amme knew who it was, but her mind focused on obeying him rather than discovering him.

When Amme came back to her senses, the first thing she realized was she had no idea where she was. There was a large lake in front of her, but she appeared to be underground.

She turned and saw five different passageways. Without knowing which one led back, it could take days to return to the world above.

The idea of swimming across the lake meant getting wet, therefore, it was out before Amme even fully considered it.

"Now what am I going to do?" She muttered.

A splashing noise caught her attention. She glanced up to see someone who looked suspiciously like the Phantom of the Opera rowing a boat towards her. Upon closer observation, she saw it _was_ the Phantom of the Opera.

"You bastard!" She exploded. "Where the hell am I?"

He slowed his rowing. "A remark like that isn't going to induce me answer you, I'm afraid, Amme."

"Too bad."

He chuckled. "Would you like to come in?"

Amme glared at him. "Are you joking?"

"Do I look like it? Do you know the way back by yourself?"

Maintaining what little dignity she had left, Amme climbed into the boat, refusing his helping hand.

"Stubborn, aren't we?" He whispered, starting his rowing up again.

Amme ignored him.

"I just wanted you down here, where I could talk to you without any interruptions." He continued.

"That's no excuse," she informed him. "And I was all set to apologize for our last meeting! If you think I'm still going to, think again."

The boat bumped against a small dock. "Here we are," the Phantom said, getting off. He held out his hand for Amme again, and, again, she ignored it.

"I don't need help to get off a boat. I'm not that pathetic, you know."

"I apologize," he replied, quickly withdrawing his hand.

Amme stood on the dock, looking around. "Where is this?" She meant to sound disgusted, but instead she was fascinated. Also rather scared. There were at least twenty drawings of her attached to the wall.

"This is where I live."

Disbelief now colored her tone. "You live _here?"_

"That I do." He glanced at her sideways. "Surprised?"

Amme swallowed. "Well, yes, actually. I had never thought about where you lived before."

"Now you know." He moved closer, one hand coming out to stroke her hair. Surprise had diminished all Amme's anger, so she didn't try shaking it away. The Phantom took advantage of this. He placed his other arm around her shoulder, and brought her nearer to him.

Pushing her black hair back, he whispered, "Did you know your ears are pointed?"

Amme shot him a look. The look told him he was crazy. "Of course I do."

"You aren't human."

"I've never pretended to be."

Erik was surprised by this quick confirmation. "What are you, then?"

"Why are you so curious?"

"Because I don't know many non-humans."

Amme rolled her eyes. "You seem to have a bunch of rats here. Aren't they non-humans?"

"First of all, I don't know the rats by names, and secondly, I'm talking about non-humans who have a human-like appearance."

"In that case, you should have been more specific." She shifted away from him. "I'm an elf."

"Really?" Erik said, knowing fully Laetitia would gloat about him being wrong for months.

"Yes," She looked around. "This is an interesting place."

"I suppose so," Erik shrugged, not meaning it. He hated the place.

She took one step, and then hesitated. "Is it alright if I look around?"

"Go ahead."

She went over to the desk. "You write a _lot_ of music!" She sounded very impressed.

Impressed was good. "There's really not much else to do here."

She turned slightly. "Is this a piano?" She asked doubtfully.

Erik shook his head. "No, it's an organ. Haven't you heard of them before?"

"No."

He masked his surprise by asking, "Do you play the piano?"

"A tiny bit. Emily was better."

"Emily?"

She flushed. "My sister."

Erik eyed her carefully. "She _was_ better?"

"She's dead," Amme said shortly.

"I'm sorry." He frowned. "When did this happen?"

Amme looked like she wanted to change the subject. "Three months ago."

No wonder she always wore black. "Is this why you came here?"

The elf stiffened. Then she crumbled onto the floor, sobbing.

"Amme!" He ran over to her and put both arms around her. Holding her close, he whispered, "Amme, what is it?"

She didn't answer, just wept harder into his shirt.

Despite his dislike of anything that made her cry, Erik was forced to admit how much he liked her clinging to him. He started to stroke her hair again. "Shh." He murmured. "Shh, Amme, everything's fine. Shh."

She sat up. "I'm sorry, it's just… Emily!"

"What happened, Amme?"

"Do you really want to know?" She asked uncertainly.

"Of course."

Amme took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright. I'll tell you."

Next chapter is pretty much why Amme had to come to France. Had to, mind you, _had _to.

Well, technically, she didn't have to go to _France,_ but, hey…whacha gonna do about it?

Oh, and one more thing. I am well aware I make spelling mistakes in this. Please don't feel the need to correct every single one. _Please _don't! Really, it will only succeed in annoying me.


	10. Amme's Story

Sorry about the long wait. I'll try to start posting faster again.

Amme ran quickly through the trees in her forest home of Ahsela. She had an appointment to keep, though the person she was meeting didn't know about it.

She came to a sudden halt right in front of a tall, blond man with skin as pale and cold as ice. "Hello, Kevin!"

Kevin Lonesomhel eyed her warily. "Good day, Princess. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

_"You're a _what_?" The Phantom shouted._

_"Don't interrupt!" Amme snapped._

"Didn't you know Emily's getting married tomorrow, Kevin?" The past Amme asked, hurt. "You live in this country, after all!"

"I don't know if I'd call it 'living here.'" Kevin said wryly.

"So you're a vampire. So you're technically dead. So what? This is still your home, so you should be aware of what's happening!" She glared at him. Somehow, she still looked happy. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Absolutely." He grinned, showing scarily white teeth.

"Good." She tossed her black hair. "So, you'll be there?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Amme's white teeth flashed. They weren't as scary as Kevin's. "Not at all!"

The vampire shrugged. "Then there's your answer."

"Wonderful!" She leapt forward and kissed him on his cheek.

"Don't do that!" He pushed her away. "I've known you the day you were born!"

"So," Amme said mischievously. "You shouldn't mind! Because we can be informal with each other. Speaking of which, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Amme?"

Kevin sighed. "That isn't going to work, today, Princess, so don't even try it. No matter what you say, no matter what you do, you're still a princess."

_"I'm hoping," The Phantom said suddenly. "That your home country, Ahsela, only allows men on the throne."_

_"No," Amme replied. "Why?"_

_"Do you have any living siblings?"_

_"No. Why?"_

_"Just continue with the story."_

Amme shrugged. "I don't care. I don't like being called 'Princess' all the time. It makes me sound spoiled."

"How?" Kevin asked.

"It just does. Trust me on that."

"That's not a good answer." He paused dramatically. "Princess."

"Oh, stop that!" Amme laughed. Without warning, she spun around and started running again. "I have to tell Maria and Veronica!" The elf called over her shoulder.

_"I though elves where supposed to be short." The Phantom remarked._

_Amme glared at him. "I'm never going to get through with this if you persist on interrupting me!"_

_"Sorry."_

"Maria!" Amme shouted. "Maria, guess what!"

The brunette elf smiled at her. "Amme, I know Emily is marrying tomorrow. You've been telling everyone for the past three weeks."

"I'm sorry," Amme leapt into a tree and lounged on a branch. "It just seems so surreal! I need to make sure this is really happening!"

"It is," Maria assured her, laughing.

Amme joined in.

"Are you marrying anyone anytime soon, Amme?" Maria asked curiously.

Amme stopped laughing instantly. "I'm never getting married. I'm going to be like Sophia!"

"You're far too young to decide anything like that, Amme. Anyways, you can't judge all men because of the actions of one."

_"'Because of the actions of one?' What's that suppose to mean?"_

_"I swear, if you don't be quiet right now, I'll—"_

_"Alright, alright! Just…go on!"_

"I don't care," Amme snapped jumping down from the tree. "And I don't want people to constantly tell me things like that! I just want to forget what happened!"

Maria raised one thin eyebrow. "Is that really the wisest choice, Amme?"

Instead of answering, Amme started sprinting off. "I need to tell Veronica!"

"She already knows!" Maria shouted back, amused.

Veronica seemed to be waiting. "Hello, Amme," She said. "Yes, I know Emily is getting married tomorrow. Kevin already stopped by to tell me you were reminding everyone."

Amme forced a frown. "That's not fair."

"To you, perhaps."

Her lips turned back up. "Why? I am annoying you?"

Veronica sighed. "You always do."

"Of course. Well, I should be going home now. I do that blasted finally check for the blasted bridesmaid dress."

"I know you hate dresses, Amme, but, just this once, try not to show it. It's Emily's day, don't ruin it."

"Would I do something like that?" Amme asked, offended. Her annoyance was diminished by her still smiling mouth. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"I'll be there."

Amme ran back to the city. Emily was waiting for her. Like everyone else, expect Kevin, she was amused to see the black-haired elf so hyper.

"You can calm down, sister. You aren't the one getting married."

Laughingly, Amme reached out and tugged on one of Emily's golden curls. "Since you won't freak-out, I have to do it for both of us!"

Emily shook her head. "Let's go. We need to check your dress."

"Do we have to?"

Emily, without looking over her shoulder, said, "Yes."

_"I'm confused." The Phantom said. "What does this have to do with her dying?"_

_"Just wait, will you? Exactly like what you told me to do with that note."_

_He grinned. "However did you guess?"_

Amme followed her sister, saying, "Emily, how much do you think is going to change, now that you're getting married?"

"A bit, I suppose. It's not as though I'm leaving the city, but still. You might get some nieces and nephews," She added slyly.

Amme laughed. "That would be interesting! Do you think I'd make a good aunt?"

"Not really."

"I didn't think so!" She laughed again. "You'd make a fabulous mother, though."

"Thank you. Now, let's get this over with."

"Oh, come on, Emily!" Amme put on her best martyr face. "I don't want to wear a dress!"

"I'm sorry. Suck it up."

"Oh! That hurts!"

_"Not that is isn't very interesting, Amme, but I'm still failing to see what's going on. So your sister got married, what does that have to do with her dying?"_

_"Are you done yet?" Amme asked._

_"For now."_

_"Good. Let me continue. It started the next day…"_

Amme woke up late the next morning and glanced outside. Her room only had walls on three-fourths of it, so that wasn't too hard to do.

"Amme!" Amme's father, Sidhion Eledhwen, came bursting into her room.

"Hello, Papa." Amme smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Emily's missing!"

Her smile faded. "Excuse me?"

"I know!" He tore at him blond hair. "She disappeared only three hours ago."

Amme very quickly changed behind her screen. While she got into her shirt, she asked, "Are you sure?"

"Completely. Everyone's looking for her, of course, but, Amme, if this turns out like your mother…" he couldn't finish.

_"Wait," The Phantom frowned. "What happened to your mother?"_

_"Never mind that now!" Amme snapped. "You are, without a single doubt, the worst person to tell stories to!"_

"I know," Amme finished and stepped back out. "But maybe she…just got lost?"

"Do you really believe that?" Sidhion asked.

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, she sprinted out the door, down the stairs, and outside, nearly colliding with Kevin.

"There you are." He sighed. "Your father already told you what happened?"

"Yes, of course he did."

"Then you also know that you can't go looking for her."

"What?!" Amme shrieked. "She's my sister! I need to look for her! I _need_ to, Kevin!"

"Princess," Kevin said gently. "It's too dangerous for you. We have enough—"

_"Dangerous!"_ Amme hissed. "I've been in more dangerous situations before, and you know it! _Emily's_ the one in danger, not me!"

A tiny black ball of fluff that turned out to be Starlight jumped onto Amme's shoulder and licked her ear.

"Anyways," Amme continued, rubbing the top of the kitten's head. "Since I _am_ a princess, as you constantly remind me, I don't have to take any orders from you!" She glared at him and Starlight quickly followed suit.

Kevin raised both his hands. "I'm not ordering you, Princess. Your father, the king, is. I just think his decision is a wise one."

"This is my sister!" Amme exploded. "You bastard! _My sister!_ Don't you _dare_ tell me what _you_ think is _wise!"_

_"You call him a bastard too?" _

_"You sound far too pleased with that."_

_The Phantom very quickly tried to hide his smirk._

"Amme," Veronica arrived, looking sober. "Amme, we found her."

Amme ran over. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

Veronica was shaking her head. "She's being carried over. Amme, she's dying."

Kevin hid his face in his hands.

"No!" Amme gasped. "No, you're wrong!"

"Amme, she's been poisoned."

"Then heal her, damn it! You have magic!"

"It's too far along."

"No, it's not!" Amme shrieked. "No, she's not dying! She _not!_ She's my sister! She can't die." Her voice broke.

"Come on, Amme," Veronica sighed. "Let's go. She'll want to see you."

Amme nodded and followed the other elf wordlessly. Maria's husband, Jimmy, was carrying Amme's dying sister.

"Amme!" She tried to sit up. "Amme, I…" She turned to Jimmy and gasped. "Set me down. Please."

Jimmy obeyed.

"Emily?" Amme whispered. "Emily?"

"Amme, you have to listen to me," she broke off in pain. "He's…he wants you, Amme."

"Who?" Amme wept, not really caring.

"I…don't know…his name. He…killed Mama. You re-remember that, don't…you, Amme?" Amme nodded. "He…raped…poisoned…left me. He wants to…kill you know…Amme. Amme…you have to leave. You can't…stay here. Please? Don't…let him get you…too, Amme." Emily's voice faded to a faint whisper. "Amme, I love…you…"

Her head fell back. Amme stared at the body of her beloved sister, paralyzed with shock and horror.

You know something: I wasn't actually aware spelling mistakes smelled like cow. I should pay more attention on my next vocab next. Maybe remembering that will help.

And in the next chapter, I get to introduce someone new for you to hate. Oh yippee!  
This is the moment you start feeling very sorry for Erik.


	11. Michel Leclerc

Now, why should you feel sorry for Erik. I think this chapter more than clears that up for all you.  
Of course, people always feel sorry for him anyways, but this will probably make you feel even more so than before. For this story at least.

Erik, being a very generous person, if he did say so himself, allowed Amme to return to the theatre on the condition she come back every Saturday and Sunday. She seemed a little put out agreeing to it, but agree to it she did. Otherwise, he would have kept her down with him.

The first person she came face to face with when she returned was none other than Joshua Eddison.

"Amme!" He cried. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you!"

"That's ridiculous," Amme protested. "Joshua, I can take care of myself perfectly well."

"Even so, Amme," he sighed. "Well, you're back now, and that's the important part."

A man standing behind Joshua cleared his throat.

"Right," Joshua said, looking rather sour. "Amme, this is Michel Leclerc. He asked me to introduce you to him."

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Ms. Eledhwen." The man, Michel Leclerc said politely. "I've heard so many things about you."

"Really?" Amme asked slightly stiffly. "Some of it was good, I trust?"

"All of it," he assured her, smiling. He was very good-looking, and had a gorgeous smile.

Amme was vexed to find herself blushing.

"Alright, alright," Joshua stepped in between them. "Don't need to charm her like that, Michel. It isn't fair to the rest of us."

Michel just continued to smile. "I hope, Ms. Eledhwen, we can get to know each other some other time? I believe Joshua wants a turn with you."

Amme's blush deepened.

As always, the Phantom was watching. Now he was getting really annoyed. It came down to this, did it? Joshua Eddison made her laugh, Michel Leclerc made her blush, Erik Destler made her glare and cry. And who do you think she would chose? Honestly now.

He should have remembered to put the no more men part in their agreement.

Amme walked dreamily back to her temporary home. Starlight and Fate both were worried about her, and seeing her looking so starry-eyed made them even more anxious.

_What's going on, Amme?_ Fate asked.

"Oh," Amme sighed. "I just met someone today."

_Someone?_ Starlight frowned a cat frown. _As in…a man?_

"Yeah…" the elf smiled.

_You're acting like a human, Amme,_ Starlight informed her.

Amme blinked herself into the real world. "I am not!"

_Actually, Amme,_ Fate neighed. _I have to agree with Starlight on this one. You look like you're in some lovesick daze._

"I'm not in love," Amme snapped, now thoroughly annoyed.

_That's better,_ Starlight approved. She hopped onto Amme's shoulder. _You may pet me now._

"Oh, what an honor." But Amme obeyed Starlight, petting her until the kitten nearly had hysterics.

Amme, walking to the theatre, was intercepted by Michel Leclerc.

"Oh! Monsieur Leclerc! I didn't see you there." That was a lie; Amme had been well aware of his location. She just didn't want to let on.

"Please, Ms. Eledhwen. Please call me Michel," he smiled a winning smile.

The elf blushed. Why did she keep doing that? "In that case…please call me Amme."

"Very well, Amme. Do you mind if I walk you to the opera house?"

Amme frantically shook her head. "No, but I'm almost there, so…"

"It doesn't matter. The more time I spend in your company, the happy I am."

Erik was once again watching this, and was not happy about it. Did she really like those lines? He had seen hundreds of men using them just to charm a girl, and then, after he left her, used them again on another unsuspecting woman. Erik could probably write a few books on it.

Back on the ground, Amme was giving every sign of being charmed. It was disgusting to watch, for Erik anyways. Meg, who was behind her, looked like she thought it was adorable.

Wasn't that just typical?

"How would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?" Michel was asking.

"Oh, no, I can't," Amme said. "I'm going with Joshua. Again." She couldn't help adding.

"I'm sure he won't mind, just this once." He smiled at her again.

Amme stuck her chin out stubbornly. "I promised Joshua, and I can't break my promise."

"Of course," Michel backtracked quickly. "I would never want you to go back on your word. We can set up another time."

"I suppose so," She said, suddenly uneasy. "Just dinner? Nothing more?"

"Not if you don't want anything more."

"All right, then," Amme nodded. "I…have to go. Excuse me." She hurried off.

Erik paced back and forth underground. Laetitia watched him, frowning.

"Do you really think she likes him that much?" The mermaid asked.

"I don't know!" He stopped short. "I…I just don't know. She _seems _ to, but one can never tell, right?"

"Of course not," Laetitia reassured him.

"I mean," he continued. "Amme hasn't _told_ anyone, so how could anyone know, right?"

"Exactly."

"Just because she always blushes around him, and laughs at every stupid, bloody joke he says, and stares at him for long intervals of time, that doesn't mean much, does it?"

Laetitia couldn't lie with that one. "Um, bossman? I think you need to stop fooling yourself. Really, stop."

Erik sat down at his organ and put his face in his hands. "Do you think she'd mind if I killed him?"

"Probably, but why has that ever stopped you before?"

He started playing the organ. Actually, it was more _pounding_ on the organ. "He's worse than Eddison. At least _he_ had the decency to not make her blush."

"Yes, what kind of despicable person would make a girl blush?" Laetitia said with a straight face.

Erik turned to glare at her. "You know, you're not making this any easier."

"I'm sorry." The mermaid dove underwater.

Erik went over to his desk, seized some paper and a quill, and started frantically drawing a portrait of Amme. A single tear rolled down his cheek when he realized he might lose her before he fully had her.

"Amme?"

The elf jumped about a foot when Erik called her name. "Don't _do_ that!" She snapped.

"Do what?"

"Surprise me like that."

Erik frowned. "You don't seem to get surprised whenever someone approaches you unexpectedly."

"That's different. I can't sense you."

He stared. "Excuse me? I thought you just said…"

"Elves can sense people whenever they're close to them. No matter what species. But I can't with you. Satisfied?"

"I suppose so."

Amme sighed. "Do you want something?"

Erik was still marveling over how she couldn't "sense" him. "What? Oh, of course." His gloom returned. Taking a deep breath, he said, "How much do you like Michel Leclerc?"

"Who says I like him?"

"You blush every damn moment you look at him, Amme Eledhwen. Don't try to play innocent; you know what I mean."

"I don't see how that's any of your business. Oh, and by the way, can I skip going down with you this week? Michel said he made reservations to a nice restaurant, and I want to be there."

Erik felt cold. "You didn't allow him to break your word with Eddison, but with me it's alright? Is that really how you regard me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Amme snapped. "You practically made me promise my every weekend with you. Don't I deserve a few off? Anyways, he made _reservations!_ He can't break those."

"But you can break your promise to me."

"I'm not breaking it!" She said, frustrated. "I'm just…postponing it for a bit! It's not that big of a deal!"

"It is to me!" The Phantom hissed. "And no, you will come just as we agreed! This Saturday, no excuses!"

Amme stared at him. "Is this why Christine left you?" She asked slowly. "Because you're such a tyrant?"

"I am not a tyrant!"

"Really? It seems like it to me." She sighed. "You can't tell me what to do or where to go. I need my freedom; you need to understand that. If I don't have it, I really don't have anything."

With that, she turned around and left.

"Well, it's official."

Laetitia looked up. "What is?"

"I am, in fact, a total idiot."

"I knew that already."

Erik scowled at her. "You aren't making me feel any better about myself."

She yawned. "I wasn't aware I was suppose to."

"Go away!" He snapped. Laetitia happily went.

He sank down into a chair. Why was his life always like this? One misery after another, no breaks of happiness in between. He reached out to touch the closest drawing of Amme. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She was so beautiful, and…

"Bossman?"

He turned, annoyed again. "I thought I told you to go away?"

"You did, but there's a woman by the lake. A woman who looks suspiciously like an Amme Eledhwen we all know."

Erik was out of his chair, in the boat, and rowing across the lake in an instant.

Laetitia watched him go. "That's just sad."

Shaking her head, she sank back into the lake.

Amme was, indeed, waiting for him by the lake. She didn't look up as he tied up the boat and walked over to her.

"Amme?"

"I'm very sorry for the way I treated you last time. I was planning on breaking my word, and it was very wrong of me to do so."

"Is that really all you came here for?" The Phantom asked, now very cross. "Because you about thinking about breaking your word? Is that it?"

"Not everything." She put both hands behind her back and looked him straight in the eye. "I'm getting married."

Erik didn't believe her. There was no way it could be true. "No, no, you're not."

"Yes, I am. Michel proposed to me only a half hour ago, and I said yes."

"That's impossible. You barely know him!"

"How do you know that?"

How could she stand there, so calmly, while his world shattered into pieces? "You're just saying this so you won't have to come to me on the weekends!"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you don't want me! And I love you! Do I make myself clear? I—love—you!"

Amme took a step back. "You can't love me! I'm marrying Michel!"

Erik took two steps forward. "But I do. And it doesn't matter who you get engaged to, because I'll kill him just the same as anyone else!"

She gasped. "If you lay one finger on him!"

"You'll what?" He retorted. "There's nothing you can threaten me with now, Amme! You took that power away yourself!"

"I can kill you just as effectively as you can kill Michel." Amme snapped. "I'll just be feeling a little worse about it in the morning. But I assure you, it won't last!"

They both glared at each other. Finally, Amme broke the silence by saying, "Why do we always seem to part on such horrible terms?"

"Why? Because you're stupid enough to get yourself betrothed to some man you don't even know! Heaven, earth, and hell! And I thought _I_ was acting like an idiot!"

Amme's mouth tightened. "If that's the way it's going to be. I don't suppose we'll be seeing each other again, monsieur."

"I don't suppose so, mademoiselle."

With that, they both turned and left.

Okay then! I told you I'd introduce you to someone new to hate. Do you hate him yet? If you don't I'm fairly certain you will after the next chapter. And if you want Josh to be the one you can loathe more than anything, don't worry: his time will come.  
Eventually.

Now then, progress reports! (Told you I'd do these once in a while. I know I've only done them twice so far, but hey…)

Erik- hates Amme.

Amme- hates Erik. (That works out fairly well, doesn't it?)

Josh- not important. (Ha ha ha!)

Michel- can't talk about him very long without insulting him, the [insert worst insult you can think of here].


	12. Abuse

Laetitia was unsympathetic.

"You know, bossman, calling her stupid wasn't the brightest thing to do."

"She got herself engaged to a man she barely knows, Laetitia!"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. "Didn't Romeo and Juliet get married the morning after they meet?"

Erik gritted his teeth. "Amme Eledhwen and Michel Leclerc are _not_ Romeo and Juliet!"

"So? What are you going to do about it?"

"Killing Leclerc comes to mind."

Laetitia shook her head. "That's a bad idea, bossman. Amme will hate you forever if you do."

"She already hates me. What harm could it do?"

"Whenever you say that, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end."

"Oh, grow a backbone, woman. I'd be taking the blame, anyways."

"Even so,"

Erik sighed. "Fine, I won't kill him. If Amme wants to marry a man she doesn't know, that's _her_ problem, isn't it? Even if she regrets it later, which she will, it isn't my fault. I warned her."

"That's the spirit!" Laetitia turned a summersault. "But you do realize if she _does_ regret it, you'll take her back, no matter how angry at her you are now."

"I will not!" Erik said hotly. "We've both decided never to see each other again. From now on, I don't care what happens to that elf, Amme Eledhwen."

Said elf was walking very quickly in the rain. She promised to meet her fiancée, Michel, by his house and they would go out to dinner. Then, when she turned a corner, she saw him coming out of a bar.

"Michel?"

He spun around. "Oh, Amme, baby."

She stopped. "What did you call me?"

"Your name, baby."

Amme stared at him is disbelief. "I am _not _a kit."

"Didn't call ya one, baby."

"You're drunk." She accused.

"Yep," He grinned. "Want one?"

"I must certainly do not!" Amme snapped. "I don't drink."

"Don't need be so hoity-toity. Don't need to turn up your tiny nose at it!" He swayed slightly.

She watched him with one eyebrow raised. "How often do you drink?"

"Why's that any of your business, baby?"

"I am _not_ marrying a man who drinks regularly! And _don't_ call me baby!"

Michel grabbed her arm hard. "You're marryin' me whether you wanna or not, so deal with it." He threw her against the wall.

Amme straightened. "How _dare_ you!"

"Shut your mouth, bitch!" He roared, his hand coming up. "I'll do what I wanna!"

The next day, Meg, of course, skipped towards Amme, who was walking slowly to the theatre.

"Hello, Amme! How was your yesterday?"

Amme didn't turn. "It was fine."

Meg was unconvinced. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright, Amme? Let me look at you."

Amme finally turned to Meg, who backed up.

"What happened to your face?!"

There was a lovely bruise spreading across the elf's left eye and down onto her left cheek. Her lips were swollen, and her right cheek was bright red, raw, and shiny, almost as if it had been burnt.

"I…fell."

"No, you did not!" Meg protested. "You aren't clumsy."

"It's my fault." She turned back to the theatre.

"Amme, people don't get burnt from falling."

"Maybe I landed into a fire."

"Amme! Really! What're the chances of that?"

"It's possible. You never know."

"Wait just one second, Amme…"

Christine came at that moment. "Hello, Meg. Hello, A…Amme? What happened to your face?"

"I fell," Amme said stubbornly.

"You must certainly did _not_ fall!"

"Yes, I did! Excuse me, I have to go." And go she did.

Meg turned to Christine. "What do _you_ think happened to her?"

"I have no idea! But I _know_ there's no way she could have fallen, and ended up like that. It looks like something, or someone, hit her!"

"Well," Meg said confidently. "If it was a someone, the Ghost will take care of it. I think he likes her quite a lot. Unless," Meg frowned. "You don't think he's the one doing it, do you?"

Christine shook her head. "I know just as much as you do, Meg."

Things only proceeded to get worse for Amme. New bruises would form long before the old ones disappeared. One day, she had to limp to the theatre, and didn't stop that day forward. It seemed her leg just wouldn't heal. Two scars had appeared, one on her right eyebrow, the other across her lip.

"Amme," Christine said finally. "You need help. Really, you can't solve this alone."

"What? I need to have someone help me stop being a klutz?"

"Yes! Amme, the problem isn't going away!"

"I'm tripping, that's all."

Christine gave her a hard look. "You're insulted my intelligence, Amme, and everyone else's, too. We all know you aren't tripping. Someone is abusing you. Who is it?"

"No one!" Amme snapped, before quickly leaving the room.

Christine was determined to help Amme. She was so determined, she did something she never expected to do again; she went to talk with the Opera Ghost.

"Christine!" He smiled to see her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Amme," Christine replied stoutly.

His smile faded. "Why should I have anything to do with Amme?"

"Someone's been hurting her. Really badly, too."

"How does that affect me?"

She stared at him, shocked. "I thought you liked her! A lot. Shouldn't you care if—"?

"No," Erik cut her off. "I don't care. She can take care of herself."

Christine slowly shook her head. "I don't believe this! I thought I could count on you! Unless you're the one doing it?"

"I haven't touched her, and I never will! Is this all you came here for? Because if it is, you're wasting your time."

"I can see that," Christine said coldly. "Thank you so much for helping me."

Erik watched her go, feeling sad he had hurt Christine like that. But Amme had made her choice, and he wouldn't interfere with it, no matter what it cost.

But it would make it a lot easier if people didn't keep bring her up. Laetitia talked about the woman every time she spoke. Why wouldn't people just let him forget about her?

Amme ran a hand through her hair. Michel wanted her to meet him by the bar again. She had gone there almost every day for the past two weeks. She didn't like it, but she also was confused. Physical abuse was new to her, and she didn't know how to react to it. She was, at first, very confident she could get him to stop by herself, but now she wasn't so sure. It was almost as if every time he saw her, he gave her a new bruise. That wasn't what she would call progress.

There were two reasons why Amme wasn't telling anyone what was happening. One, because she wasn't sure _how_ to tell them. Two, because of personal pride. Amme didn't want them to think she was weak in any way.

_"There_ you are!"

Amme turned. Michel was walking towards her, pointing accusingly.

"You…you told me to meet you here?" Amme said slowly.

"I didn't mean _this_ bar, idiot!" He smacked her face.

"Please, stop it!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" He shouted. "I'll decide what I'll do!"

"You wanted me to meet you at the bar! This is the only one you've been going to for the past two weeks, so I thought…"

"That I can't change my mind, is that it?" He snapped, grapping her hair and yanking it back. Hard. "Is that what you think?"

"No!" Amme denied weakly.

"Yes, it is! Don't you dare lie to me! Just like the rest of you actresses!"

"I am _not_ lying!" She cried. "Let go of me!"

He shoved her against the wall. Amme fell on her arm and there was a cracking sound, followed by intense pain in said arm.

"Get up, you useless lump, get up!"

Amme, biting back tears, slowly stood, holding her right arm gingerly. Michel grabbed that arm and pulled hard.

The elf screamed, the tears finally breaking through.

"Bossman," Laetitia sang.

"I do not want to talk about Amme, Laetitia."

"Maybe not, but she wants to talk to you."

Erik looked up sharply. "What? No, you must be mistaken."

"Can't be. She told me so herself."

"You can only speak mermish."

"She can too. Not as well as you, I'll admit, but still fairly well. She looks pretty bad." She added as an afterthought.

"She's about to get worse," Erik muttered, grabbing his lasso.

Amme was, indeed, waiting for him. Before he even got off the boat, she was talking.

"Phantom, listen. You were right about Michel. I don't know him and I really shouldn't have gotten engaged to him. I'm really, really sorry I yelled at you before. And I really want to make it up to you. I really need some help, and…"

"Stop right there," Erik said coldly. He was still too angry with her to believe a word she said, and was letting that anger do the talking for him. "I _thought_ we agreed never to see each other again. This doesn't look very much like keeping your word. Wouldn't be the first time for you, thought," He added cruelly.

Amme hung her head. "I'm really sorry."

"I don't care what you are, Amme Eledhwen. If you come down here again, I swear, I'll kill you. Don't think you'll get special treatment just because I said I loved you before. You'll be treated like everyone else."

"But…"

"Get out! NOW!" He shouted the last word.

Amme limped off, tears streaming down her face.


	13. Starlight

I was reading all your reviews on the previous two chapters, and now I feel really sorry for Erik! Wasn't on purpose, it just happened.

"You're an idiot." Laetitia informed Erik as soon as he returned from talking with Amme.

"What did I do this time?"

"She was practically _begging_ you to take her back! And you! Not only did you blow her off, you threatened to kill her! No wonder you're still single."

"This has nothing to do with you, Laetitia, so don't comment." Erik snapped.

"You asked!"

He ignored her. Instead, he went over to his desk and picked up his quill. Not for the first time in two weeks, no notes came.

"This is your own fault."

Still ignoring her, he started drawing absentmindedly.

"She looked really bad. Really, _really_ bad."

When he realized what he was drawing, he quickly crumpled up the paper and set it on fire, watching it turn into ashes. He didn't want any more reminders of Amme. He had already destroyed all the other pictures of her.

"Are you listening to me? Hey, bossman, I'm talking to you!"

He went over to the organ and started playing random notes.

"I think you should find out what's going on with her!" Laetitia shouted.

He responded by playing even louder.

"Moron," Laetitia muttered before sinking under the water.

Erik didn't stop his playing after she left. If he stopped, he would think about would she said, and he couldn't bear that. If she and Christine were right, if something was hurting Amme…no. He couldn't let himself believe that.

When Amme got back to the opera house, she had stopped crying. Crying never helped anyone, why should she be the exception? She had to keep telling herself that, because the tears kept threatening to rise up again. She would not cry, she would _not_ cry, she…

Damn it.

The tears won again, and she collapsed into a corner. If Michel saw her like this, she wouldn't be standing for a month.

Of course, he wanted to see her in only ten minutes, and if she wasn't there, things would be worse.

Carefully, she got up. Being able to only use one hand made things very difficult; her right arm was currently out of commission. Being broken usually had that effect on people's limbs. Amme could only be grateful she was left-handed.

"Amme?"

Christine had found her. Amme wiped the water from her eyes quickly before she saw.

"Amme, what happened to your arm?"

"I…"

"Don't you dare say you tripped," Christine warned.

Amme had to smile. "Alright. It's nothing, though. I can handle it."

"Amme, we really, _really_ need to talk."

"There's nothing to say." Amme started to leave. "Excuse, Michel is expecting me."

"Did he break your arm, Amme?"

And Amme thought humans weren't intuitive. "I broke my arm. I fell on top of it."

"And how, pray tell, did you fall?" The human asked relentlessly.

"I just fell."

"Amme! I told you not to say that! We both know you didn't fall, so just admit it."

"Christine, this is my business, so please, _please_ stay out of it. Please?"

"Could you at least tell the Phantom what's happening? He'll listen." _I hope_, Christine added to herself.

Amme sighed. "I already did. At least, I tried to. He didn't want to talk with me."

Christine's already wide eyes widened. "I can't believe that!"

"He said if I came back down, he'd kill me," Amme added sadly. Two tears slipped from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Amme. Do you want me to talk to him?"

She shook her head. "No, that's alright, Christine. I need to go, now. Michel will be…worried."

Starlight, who was very clearly not a human, was _very_ intuitive. Cats had much better sense than humans could ever hope to achieve, so she knew right away what was wrong.

But Amme wouldn't talk to her about it. Whenever Starlight brought up the topic, Amme would either change it or just leave.

Starlight knew Amme. She knew what the elf was doing. Amme wasn't used to people helping her; she was used to helping people. And she would never, ever, _ever_ dream of asking for any assistance, because that just wasn't what she did. In was coded in her DNA to take everything upon herself.

Starlight, armed with this information, wasn't stupid enough to press Amme too much for any details about her injuries. But she needed to do something, and she was a cat. And a tiny cat at that. It was hard to convince people you were dangerous when you were as big as a good-sized mouse.

But that didn't mean she had to sit around and wait for someone to save her friend. What she needed to do was find the someone who'd do that.

And Starlight already had a candidate in mind. He just needed some serious convincing.

Amme, rubbing a brand new bruise on her leg, looked around.

"Where's Starlight?" She asked.

Fate, standing next to her, merely tossed her head.

"If you don't want to tell me," Amme shrugged. Sometimes horses were just as bad as cats with their like of mysteries and being mysterious. "I was just hoping to talk with her, that's all."

Fate whinnied _she said she needed to find someone. I don't know who she was talking about, though._

"I see." The elf tried to stretch. "You know," she joked weakly. "If I don't stop falling soon, I won't be able to exercise. Then I'll probably get fat."

The horse was too depressed by that comment to answer it.

Erik was busy writing an especially scorching note to the managers complaining about how they, once again, failed to obey his wishes, when he heard a meow. Completely nonplussed, he looked up. Was there a cat down here?

The meow came again, and he found himself staring at tiny black ball of fuzz he recognized as Starlight, Amme's cat.

"What is a cat doing down here?" He muttered. "This cat, particularly."

Starlight batted his nose. Erik drew back.

"Don't do that!"

Ignoring that, she jumped onto his shoulder and started boxing his ears.

"What on heaven, earth, and hell?"

Erik jerked up, and Starlight fell onto the chair. She meowed disapprovingly, jumped off, and started attacking his leg.

"Excuse me!" He picked her up. Holding her at arm's length, he said, "What do you think you're doing?"

_I really must be insane!_ Erik realized. _I'm talking to cat!_

Said cat leaned forward, staring at him intently. Then she started licking his hand.

Erik couldn't help it; he smiled.

Starlight seemed to be waiting for that. She wiggled from his grasp, leapt down, and started tugging impatiently on his pant leg.

"Fine," Erik sighed. "I'm coming."

Starlight led him up one passageway and down another. Erik wondered if she really knew where she was going. Than he'd remember she was a cat, and he'd make a move to turn around. Whenever he did that, Starlight would instantly start attacking his leg again.

Erik finally stopped wondering; Starlight was an elf's cat, after all. She was probably much smarter than any other ones.

At last, she seemed to have reached her destination. Erik looked out the one-way mirror to see Amme sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I don't want to see her!" He snapped at the cat.

Starlight bit his hand.

"Alright! Alright!" He turned back to Amme.

She did look bad. Erik frowned thoughtfully. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Her right arm was definitely broken, and there were bruises, cuts, and burns all along her face and arms.

There was a knock at the door, and Amme, shaking, went to answer it. Michel Leclerc, the man Erik hated above all others at that moment, stood there, looking furious.

"You're too slow!" He shouted. "I don't have all day to wait you know!" He slapped her across the cheek.

Amme fell on the floor. She winced when she landed on her broken arm, but she didn't let one noise escape her lips.

Michel, standing over her, smacked her back down as she tried to get up.

"No!" Erik whispered. "No, this isn't…no!"

Starlight rubbed against his leg.

Amme stayed silent as Michel hit her over and over again. Clearly frustrated by this lack of response, Leclerc grabbed her hair and bashed her head against the wall, knocking her out.

The Phantom was too shocked to do anything.

The man struck the unconscious elf a few more times, before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

Starlight, jumping onto his shoulder, meowed in the Phantom's ear. This woke him up. Quickly, quietly, he stepped into the room and crouched next to Amme. He reached out and touched her hair gently as a tear dropped.

"Amme, I'm sorry, Amme…" He trailed off.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Erik turned. Michel Leclerc had returned, and he had drawn a sword. Starlight hissed, her fur standing on end.

"That's _my_ fiancée you're with! I _knew_ she was cheating on me! Get away from her!" He brandished the sword around clumsily.

Erik dodged it easily, wishing he had brought a weapon of some kind with him.

Leclerc might have been clumsy, but he certainly was not slow. He swung the blade again, this time cutting the Phantom on his upper arm. A few drops of blood appeared.

Erik, swearing violently, responded with a well-aimed punch right on Leclerc's nose. A crack told him he broke it.

Just like Leclerc had broken Amme's arm.

That thought flamed out his temper to a point Erik hadn't felt in years. That man had tortured the woman he loved, and Erik had nearly let him get away with it.

He hit Michel once again on the nose, before kicking his legs from under him. The other man fell to the floor. Erik, bending over, grabbed his right arm and twisted hard. Michel whimpered and flailed around, dropping the sword as he did. The Phantom seized it before Michel. Then he proceeded to left the other by his shirt, ran the sword straight through his stomach and into the wall behind him.

Michel's eyes bugged out, and Erik smiled coldly. Leaning forward, he whispered, "Consider us even."

A scream alerted Erik to the still open door. A crowd of people had just witnessed his kill. The Phantom took one step forward, and all them scattered like sheep.

Chuckling, he turned back to the room. The sight of Amme, still out cold, wiped all the mirth from his face. He went to pick her up.

"What about me?" Michel Leclerc gasped. "Are you just going to leave me like this?"

The Phantom, without looking at him, said, "Well, it's not my sword, so I don't care if I leave it here. But don't worry, you'll be dead soon, so you won't feel anything else." With Amme in his arms, he finally faced the dying man. "I only wish I knew how much damage you inflicted on her before, so I could've done the same to you. Only worse, of course," he added, smiling coldly once more. "Farewell, Monsieur."

When Amme came to her senses, her first thought was _am I suppose to meet Michel now? He'll kill me if I'm not there!_ The next was _where am I?_

She appeared to be lying on a large, comfortable bed. Amme couldn't remember the last time she had been on a bed. There was a thin curtain separating this…room? The walls seemed to be made of a rock she had only seen once before since she came to France.

Amme jumped out of the bed so fast, she fell over, dizzy. Both arms automatically went out to balance herself. Both arms…

Amme slowly flexed her right arm. It didn't hurt at all! What was going on?

She decided to ponder that question another time. The most important thing was to get out before the Phantom found and killed her, and before Michel realized she had been gone too long, and killed her as well.

She moved resolutely, but quietly, through the curtain. She almost to the dock when she realized the boat was gone; she'd have to swim across, and swimming meant getting wet.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Amme squeaked in terror, and tried to run, but a hand closed around her wrist, forcing her to look at him.

"I'm sorry!" She cried. "I don't know how I got down here, but I was just leaving, and…"

The Phantom placed a cold hand over her mouth. "I brought you down here, Amme. There's no use for _you_ to apologize for something _I_ did. What I wanted to know is: why aren't you in bed? I thought that's where I left you."

"Oh! I, oh," Amme stopped struggling. "I thought…you're aren't going to kill me then?"

The Phantom's face, the side she could see at least, crumpled, but his voice remained level. "No, I'm not going to kill you."

"Oh, alright then."

They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before Amme's legs collapsed below her. The Phantom caught her and carried her, bridal style, back to the bed.

Laying her down carefully, he said, "You need to rest here until you've completely recovered."

Amme wasn't in the mood for arguing. But there was something she wanted to know. "What made you change your mind?"

"Your cat."

"Starlight? She's not _my_ cat, she belongs to herself." Amme sat up. "What did she tell you?"

"She didn't _tell_ me anything. She made me follow her, and I saw…Leclerc…" he waved his hand, as if that explained everything.

"Michel!" Amme gasped. "Oh, no! He's going to be so angry! I need to go!"

"No, you don't," the Phantom pushed her gently back down. "You don't have to worry about anything, Amme. I've taken care of it all."

Amme turned her tortured eyes up to him. "But he hates it when I'm late! And when he finds out where I've been…"

"He's never going to. And you being late is the least of his troubles now," he smiled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she cried.

"He's dead, Amme. I killed him." His smile widened.

"Oh," Amme said foolishly. "Oh, I see."

"Do you?" His fingers traced her jaw line lightly. "Then you also know why you don't have to be afraid anymore. No one will hurt you!"

"I wasn't afraid," she denied weakly.

"You don't have to pretend with me, my love," he whispered, moving closer. "I'll understand."

"But you didn't understand when I said I was sorry before," she replied, confused.

Pain filled his eyes, and he jerked himself away. "I know, I know I didn't. I have no excuse for such behavior to you, Amme, my love. None whatsoever." He hid his face in his hands. "I was angry. So angry. Seeing you hurt me too much. I couldn't…bear it. Not at all. And every time someone spoke of you, the pain was renewed." He raised his head again, and his pleading eyes meet hers. "But that's no excuse. I should have keep a closer watch on you. I should have stopped this the moment he first laid one finger on you."

"Stop it!" Amme cried. "It's not _your_ fault! _I'm_ the one who agreed to marry someone I didn't know! Just like what you were warning me against! You can't blame yourself for this; it'll just make things worse for both of us!"

"You didn't know, Amme."

"Just like you warned me." Amme repeated. She moved over. "Would you like to sit down?"

The Phantom stared at her, not sure what she meant. She pointed at the space next to her, and he, unthinkingly, went and sat next to her.

Amme smiled shyly, and rested her head in his lap.

"Amme?" He whispered. "I love you!"  
And Amme blushed.

Progress report time!

Erik- Aw! He _loves _her! How cute!

Amme- She's warming up to him quite a lot, but she's not even close to actually loving him.

Josh- wasn't in the chapter (yippee!).

Michel- dead (_yes!_)


	14. Human vs Vampire

One thing I forgot to mention in the pervious chapter that's seriously bugging me. Amme was able to use both her arms because Erik had healed her. Completely, mind you; her broken arm, her bruises, her burns, everything.  
Sorry. I just really needed to say that.

Amme remained with the Phantom while she recovered. And for a week after, because Erik refused to admit she was perfectly fine again. And she seemed so happy! Starlight was, obviously, allowed to stay. Erik was so grateful to the kitten, he probably would have allowed her to do anything she wanted. Fate, being too big to fit in the boat, was kept in the stables with Erik's horse, César. The two seemed to like each other, so Amme wasn't worried about them not getting along.

One day, or night, as Erik would say, Amme said, "Phantom, can I make you a deal?"

The Phantom, who had been composing, looked up curiously. "What sort of deal?"

"You let me go back up to the surface, to sing and dance in your operas, of course, and I'll come back down every night." She titled her head. "Is that alright with you?"

Despite his love of her being praised and adored by an audience, Erik still preferred her spending as much time with him as possible. "I don't know…"

Amme sighed dramatically. "Well, if you'd rather have Carlotta sing the lead female part…"

That convinced him. The elf got to spend the daylight hours in the theatre, and the nighttime underneath it.

And that's how Amme lived for another two weeks. Everyone was happy with this arrangement.

Everyone except Joshua Eddison, that is, but no one cared about what he thought. Amme was very angry with him; after all, he was the one who introduced Michel Leclerc to her in the first place.

And Erik simply wished him a slow and painful death.

Meg and Christine were, of course, very glad to see their friend again. Andre and Firmin were happy because, after the Phantom insisted on her being the lead again, Amme brought in more money than even Carlotta.

A slight correction: all were happy except Joshua _and_ Carlotta. But, like Joshua, no one cared what she thought.

For two weeks, that was what happened in the theatre. But, no good thing lasts forever. And while the interruption wasn't _bad_, per se, it wasn't welcome by all.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and Amme, Meg, and Christine had agreed to go get lunch together. As they left, Amme heard something.

A voice called softly, _"Selise."_

Happiness flooded Amme's body. She turned and ran towards the speaker, crying, "Kevin! You're here!"

_"Wolnis, selise."_ Kevin smiled, but stepped away from her embrace.

"Um, Amme?" Christine asked. "Who is this?"

"Oh, Christine, Meg, this is my friend, Kevin Lonesomhel. Kevin, this is Christine de Chagny and Meg Giry."

"Hello," Meg said shyly. Christine merely nodded.

_"Lojines,_ Christine de Chagny, Meg Giry." Kevin replied politely.

"What?" Christine and Meg asked at the same time.

"Kevin," Amme sighed. "They don't speak _Vempieson."_

"I apologize." Kevin said in French. He smiled.

Meg nearly swooned.

Shaking her head, Amme asked, "What are you doing here, Kevin?"

"Your father asked me to come here, _pinoje,_ and see how you are doing. It took me quite some time to find you too, might I add."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but you know," she lowered her voice. "That was the point."

Kevin bowed his head. "I do know that, _selise,_ but your father was worried about you. Along with everyone else. We merely wanted to know how you are faring among humans."

"Very well, thank you, _lisoqu."_

"Amme?" Christine said. "This man? Is he coming joining us for lunch?"

Kevin smirked. "I think, _rilisen,_ it would be better for both you and Ms. Giry if I did not."

"Oh…"

"Kevin, perhaps we should talk later," Amme said.

His head moved slightly to the side. "Your father wants you home, _selise._ We all want you home. I've come to take you back to _Solhem."_

"Solhem?" Meg frowned. "I thought you were from Ahsela, Amme."

"I am. _Solhem_ and Ahsela are the same country. Just different names." Amme explained. "Ahsela is the official name, but in _Vempieson,_ there are no a, b, c's, nor x, y, z's, so they had to change it."

"You don't seem to have any problem with your a's." Christine accused him.

He smiled coldly.

"But, really Kevin! I don't know if I should go home. I mean…is it safe?"

"Your father thinks it is safe enough for you, and," he added slyly. "I think you had no problem with being in danger before. In fact, in memory serves, you prefer it."

"I've changed Kevin. After Emily…" she stopped, swallowed, and continued. "I mean, really. You can't possibly expect me to be the same person I was before!"

"Is that your only excuse for not returning to _Solhem, selise?"_

"No. You see, Kevin, I've made a promise to someone here, and, well, I've already broken it once, and…"

"_You've_ broken a promise?" Kevin interrupted in disbelief. "You really have changed. Am I even talking to the same _selise_ I once knew?"

"I'm getting better." Amme sighed. "But, Kevin, I don't want to break my word to him twice."

"Him? What sort of thing did you promise _him, pinoje?_"

"I didn't promise to marry him, if that's what you mean, Kevin!" She snapped.

He waited.

"Maybe," Christine said tentatively. "This would be better if you talked about it at a different time."

Kevin blinked, something he really didn't do often. "Of course. Forgive me, _rilisens, selise._ I won't take up any more of your time."

"We'll talk later Kevin." Amme assured him. "Wait here, alright?"

He nodded once.

That evening, Amme showed Kevin to where she met the Phantom every day. Kevin, having no idea what was going on, thought the princess had finally lost her marbles, to put it mildly.

"No, Kevin, I'm fine, really. He'll come, okay? I'm not insane."

Kevin remained unconvinced.

At last, a voice called softly, "What is he doing here?"

The vampire's reaction was immediate. He spun around and sank into a defensive crouch, fangs bared.

Amme laid a hand on his tense shoulder. "It's alright, Kevin. This is him, the Phantom of the Opera."

Kevin didn't relax as he took in the Phantom's appearance.

Amme now addressed the Phantom. "This is Kevin Lonesomhel. I've told you about him, remember?"

"All too well," The Ghost responded, eyeing Kevin warily. "Isn't he a vampire?"

"You've got that right, human," Kevin hissed. He looked at the Phantom like he was a stray mutt Amme had picked up off the streets.

"You two aren't going to get along very well, are you?" Amme asked.

"No," the two men answered.

She sighed. "Why not? You barely even know each other!"

"That doesn't matter," The Phantom informed her.

"We're too alike to like each other," Kevin explained.

"Oh, that makes so much sense." Amme replied, raising one eyebrow coldly. "Thank you so much for telling me."

Kevin smirked. "_Tojufs. _You're welcome." He turned to the Phantom. "You don't speak _Vempieson,_ do you?"

The human scowled. "No, why?"

Kevin's smirk proceeded to grow. _"¿Lisosh oques ruroh tijl?"_

"What?"

"He asked why he would tell you that," Amme clarified. She ignored Kevin's glare. "Now, may we return to the reason we all gathered here for? Whether I'm going to stay here or go home?"

_"Mesin kiron dutif, Selise,"_ Kevin said immediately. _"Kironoh ef Solhem." _

"Excuse me?"

"He said I don't belong here, I belong in Ahsela," She translated.

"You also," the Phantom snapped. "Made a promise to me that requires you to stay here."

"I know that."

_"Fisolit de,"_

Amme shot him a withering look. "You're doing this just to annoy me, aren't you?"

_"Voj heinos."_

"Amme?"

The elf took a deep, calming breath. "He said first he doesn't care if I made a promise to you, and second that he isn't doing this to annoy me."

_"Miwes vi sipol lene."_

"He's doing it to annoy you."

"Oh, joy," The Phantom said sarcastically.

"Is it working?" Kevin asked hopefully, changing to French.

"I'm not going to answer that question."

Amme suddenly clapped her hands together, making the two men jump. "I have a solution! You," she nodded to the Phantom. "Can come with me to Ahsela! Then you won't be able to complain how I'm breaking my promise, seeing as I'll be with you, and Papa will be happy because I'll be home!"

The only person who seemed to like that idea was Amme.

"I'm not compromising with a _human!"_ Kevin growled. "He stays here."

"I'm more than just a _human,_ you know," The Phantom retorted. "And, not only will _I_ stay here, _Amme_ will as well! She made a promise to me."

Kevin started saying a bunch of things that I, the author, can't write down, because the rating would go way beyond R, and that would be bad, because then I wouldn't be able to read my own story without parental supervision. Amme very quickly stopped him.

"Language like that won't get us anywhere." She said sternly. "And I don't want this to take all night, so just agree to my decision, and be done with it!"

"Why are you so anxious to keep your word to a _human, Selise?"_ Kevin asked. "The only good thing I'll say about them is their taste!"

"That's disgusting," The Phantom said.

"Too bad. I am a vampire."

"I've noticed."

_"Anyways,"_ Amme continued. "If we do it my way, everyone gets what they want, right? And, since we _are_ discussing whether _I'm_ going to go or stay, shouldn't _I_ make the decision?"

"Fine!" the Phantom snapped. "I'll go with you. But don't expect me to spend lots of quality time with this bloodsucker."

Kevin was unaffected by the insult; he had been called worse. "If that's what you want, _Selise,_ then that's what we'll do." Suddenly, he started laughing. "But…you're father isn't going to be happy when he sees a _human_ with you, Princess! Do you think _I've _been rude, human? The king of _Solhem_ _hates_ humans!"

This prompted the Phantom to start talking in rapid Persian.

"What?" Both immortals said.

Erik just grinned. Because this time, there was no one to translate.

The _Vempieson_ words I used in here that weren't translated before:  
_Selise-_princess  
_Wolnis-_I know  
_Lojines-_this one doesn't have an exact translation, but it's used as a greeting.  
_Pinoje-_My lady  
_Lisoqu-_My friend  
_Rilisen-_This one is just a way to address an adult woman, married or unmarried.

Yes, I made this language completely up. That is precisely why I don't expect anyone to know it. Because I know they don't! Muah ha ha ha! Ahem…  
I won't have people speaking _Vempieson_ very often, with the exception of the word _selise._ Kevin will, in fact, use that word quite frequently.

Now then, who do _you_ think won the "battle:" Erik or Kevin?


	15. Human vs Elf

"So," Erik ventured. "This is Ahsela?"

"No," Kevin retorted. "This is Limotes."

"Where my friend Veronica lives," Amme explained. "You remember her, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, I do."

Getting to…Limotes had been very interesting. They had gone seventeen miles outside the main city to a tiny cave. If Amme hadn't pointed it out, Erik would have passed right over it. It was very crowded in there; Amme _had_ to bring Fate with her. Once in the cave, she had said some words to the back wall, pressing her hand against it as she did so. Then she stepped through. Kevin, Fate, and Starlight had quickly followed suit. Amme was forced to reach back, grab Erik, and drag him though, even though the vampire had been all for living him behind.

"How far is it to Ahsela, then?" Erik asked.

"Only six more miles."

He gritted his teeth together. "We should have stayed home, Amme."

"That wasn't _her_ home, remember, human." Kevin snapped.

"Six miles isn't that bad," Amme sighed. "And I want you to meet my father."

That was one of the reasons Erik wanted to stay at the theatre. While he was confident there was no way Amme's father could stop him from marrying her, he still needed to make a very good impression on the man. And if, as Kevin said, he really hated humans, Erik was doomed to fail before he even started.

"Is it six miles to the city, or six miles to the border?" Erik asked after a while longer.

"To the border," Amme replied. "Then it's another two miles to the city."

"Joy…" Erik muttered sarcastically.

"You could always go back," Kevin growled. "Then I wouldn't have to listen to all your claptrap."

Erik responded in Persian. He had been talking in that language a lot purely because it never failed to annoy Kevin.

"Shut up, human!"

"Kevin…" Amme sighed. She had been doing _that_ a lot. "Please, would you two _try_ to get along? We don't have much farther to go."

"It's far enough," he returned.

Erik continued to talk in Persian. He had the satisfaction to see Kevin's mouth tighten into a thin line, and his eyes heat up several degrees above water's boiling point.

Finally, he whirled around. "If you don't stop talking _right now,_ human, I will lock in a wooden box and toss you into a volcano!"

"Kevin!" Amme exclaimed. "Please!"

"You really shouldn't be so rude, Kevin," The Phantom said mockingly.

A snarl started to build up in the back of Kevin's throat.

Amme quickly came in between the two of them. "That's _enough!_ You," she glared at Kevin. "And you," now the Phantom. "_Will_ behave yourselves! Otherwise, I will tear you both into a thousand pieces with my own two hands, set them on fire, and throw your ashes to the four winds! Do I make myself clear?!"

The two men nodded mutely.

Amme calmed down and beamed at them both in a scarily pleasant manner. "Wonderful! Shall we continue?"

-

The city of Ahsela was nothing like Erik had suspected it to be. He remembered Amme saying before that it looked like the buildings had grown instead of being built, he had seen glimpses of it in her memory, but even that was not enough to prepare him for the overwhelming natural beauty of it.

It was several stories tall, and seemed to be made mostly of little tree houses. That might sound juvenile, but houses were much more elaborate than anything a child would make, or a parent for said child. The entire city seemed to glow with magic.

"So," Erik said after the shock had worn off slightly. "This is where you grew up, hmm?"

"Yes," Amme agreed softly. "This is my home."

"It is…very lovely."

"First thing you've said right this whole time, human," Kevin smirked.

Erik responded in Persian. Of course.

"If you're going to talk like that, I'm leaving!" The vampire snapped. And that's precisely what he did.

Amme shook her head. "Do you want to meet Papa now?"

"Do I have to?"

"You'll have to eventually. Isn't it better to get it over with?"

"Maybe for you," the Phantom retorted. "But I think it would be best if you…eased him into it first. You know…"

"No," Amme said. "I don't. But, I still think…"

Just then, there was a cry of "Amme!"

"Oh, wonderful," Erik muttered.

A tall, blond man rushed out a door and, pulling Amme into his arms, swung her into the air. "My daughter! You're home!"

Amme responded by hugging him tightly. "I know, Papa! I'm so glad to see you again!"

"And I you!" He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Where's Kevin Lonesomhel? I must thank him!" Then he caught sight of Erik. "And who's this?"

"Oh," Amme stepped out of her father's hold. "Papa, this is my friend. I met him while I was singing opera in Paris."

"Opera?" He frowned. "My daughter was singing opera?"

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Erik snarled, very much insulted by the elf's tone.

"And what, pray tell, is your name?"

"That's an excellent question. I have been called many things before. Currently, I'm the Opera Ghost, or the Phantom of the Opera. Whichever you prefer."

Sidhion Eledhwen eyed the human warily. "Really? And why has my daughter decided to bring you home with her?"

"I just wanted you to meet him!" Amme smiled. "And I had made a promise to him, and…"

"What sort of promise?" Sidhion asked Erik, his blue eyes as cold as ice.

"Nothing bad," Erik sighed. "Just something that can't be fulfilled while she's a world away."

"Don't worry, Papa," Amme reassured him. "It really isn't something that bad."

Sidhion still looked suspicious, but he allowed the subject to drop. "So, Amme, how long are you planning on staying before you leave again?" He sounded a little bitter while he said that.

She laughed. "I haven't practiced for a while! I can't leave until I can recollect my skills!"

"What skills?" Erik asked curiously.

"Swords." Amme answered. "Daggers. Fighting. That sort of thing." Her eyes lit up. "How much do _you_ know about dueling?"

"A little," He admitted. "Well, a very little. I'm much better at music. At least, I prefer it."

"I'll have to teach you then." She smiled at his suddenly nervous look. "Don't worry, it's not that hard."

"For you, perhaps." Sidhion said. "But you are a natural at it. And your…friend here is a human. Add those two things together, and he won't last three seconds."

Erik's lips pulled back in a snarl.

-

"So, tell me, Amme, why does everyone seem to be making such a big deal over me being human?"

Amme glanced up from her stretching. "Pardon?"

"You know, your father and your friend, Kevin." Erik's lip curled. "Do they really hate me just because I'm human?"

"Kevin better not." Amme smiled very slightly. "He is, after all, in love with a human, so that would be very hypocritical on his part. He simply worries about me, that's all. Wants to make sure you aren't like…Michel." She finished, but Erik could tell that wasn't what she was going to say.

"And your father?"

Amme shrugged, which the Phantom did not take as a good sign. "Are you ready to start?"

Erik looked down at his sword in his right hand, and then at Amme's in her left. "Must we really do this, Amme?"

"Why? Are you scared?" She wanted to know.

At that moment, Erik completely hated his pride. "Of course not!"

"Then let's get started!"

They stood and faced one another. The Phantom was starting to get nervous; after all, whenever he fought before, he always had the intent to kill the other. Now he was fighting against the woman he loved.

Amme swung her sword around her hand at a blinding speed before stepping into position. Erik quickly copied, minus the swinging part. Then they both were still.

He waited, but didn't appear Amme was about to move anytime soon. Finally, Erik shifted his weight very slightly, and the next thing he noticed was Amme's blade coming at him faster than a speeding bullet. He was barely able to get his own sword up when realized she wasn't there anymore. Suddenly, she was on his left side, but as soon as he turned to face her, she was gone again.

They hadn't gone far into the duel when Erik came to the realization that Amme was _playing_ with him. That was why she was practically dancing around him; why she would bring her blade close enough to make him anxious about getting injured, but not close enough to touch him.

Knowing this, Erik then found out Amme's apparently random movements actually had a pattern to them. She would move seven and a half steps to the right in a circle, attack him, then move back one step and a half before moving nine steps to the left in a circle and attack him again. Then she would retreat two and a quarter steps before starting over again.

With that information, Erik calculated where she was expected to be next, and managed to block her before she moved back. Their blades locked, but Amme was not only faster than Erik had supposed, so was also stronger. He quickly untangled his sword from hers and stepped back, before attacking once more with a series of rapid thrusts to the side. Amme parried each one easily, and responded with several of her own.

Once more, their swords locked. This time, however, the Phantom couldn't free his. Amme jerked it out of his hands, and it flew into the wall with a _clang_. Before Erik could recover himself, Amme pointed her blade at his neck.

"Do you yield?" She asked, smiling.

"Do I have a choice?" He retorted.

She laughed. "You did very well for someone who hasn't had formal training."

"And for a human?"

"Yes, for a human with no formal training!"

"Well, that's something." Suddenly, he frowned at her. "Is this what you call being out of practice?"

The elf shrugged. "That was practice."

"I'm flattered. Do I get to rest now? Fighting with you was exhausting."

"You can sit over there if you want to," she nodded to where several people were sitting and watching. "Or you could go back to your room. Papa can get someone to show you where it is; I'm going to fence some more."

"And heaven help your opponents." Erik muttered. He went over to the benches and sat in the farthest corner away from everyone; he wanted to see Amme fight someone else, but that didn't mean he had to be sociable.

He watched as Amme's next victim…opponent was disarmed in two minutes. He was able to get his sword back, though, and the battle went on for another thirty seconds.

The one after took much longer. During it, an elf girl came skipping over to sit next to him.

"Hi!" She smiled. "My name is Virginia Táralóm. Amme says your name is the Phantom!"

"It is…" Erik said, looking at her carefully. She had medium length, very straight hair, almond-shaped, slanted, but still wide and slightly protruding light brown eyes, and a very wide smile. She was beautiful, like all the elves, but she was also scary. Probably because she seemed so cheerful and hyper.

"Of course it is!" She agreed. "If Amme said so, that it is. So, you're friends with Amme?"

"Sort of."

Virginia tilted her head. "What do you mean by 'sort of?'"

"Nothing," Erik replied hastily.

"Oh," She turned back to Amme completely destroying her new opponent. "She taught me to use swords. She's a really good teacher."

"Really?" He asked.

"Uh huh. I like her a lot. I'm going to fight her next!" She announced.

"Good luck with that," Erik smirked.

"I know I'm going to lose!" Virginia grinned. "I just want to see if she thinks I've improved any since the last time we fought!" With that, she skipped off.

Some time during Amme's duel with Virginia, Kevin came over to sit down beside the Phantom.

"So," the vampire said, keeping his eyes on Amme. "She's really something, isn't she?"

"She's beautiful." Erik agreed softly.

Kevin turned his head slightly towards him. "I know. Perhaps praising her is the only time we can agree on something."

"Yes, but I thought you were in love with someone else."

He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. "I never said I was in love with her. The princess is, however, an amazing person, despite how little she realizes it. I do love her, but not in the way you are suggesting." He fully turned to look at Erik. "You are in love with her, though, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Erik asked.

"I'm afraid so. I only hope you are worthy of her."

"No one's worthy of her," Erik disagreed.

Kevin laughed. "Now that is where we do not see eye to eye. The princess is far from perfect, though I prefer her faults be brought into light as little as possible. But no one is flawless."

"Amme is." The Phantom whispered.

Kevin gave no sign that he heard that.

Eventually, Amme's father decided to join them.

"Kevin!" He said. "I never got a chance to thank you properly for what you did. I can't tell you how grateful I am for bringing my daughter back to me."  
"It was nothing, sire." Kevin replied.

"Ah, don't be ridiculous. Although," he lowered his voice. "Wasn't there someway for you to leave the human behind?"

"The human can hear you, you know," Erik snapped.

"The princess was very insistent he come." Kevin said. "I can only argue so much with her."

"Yes, well," Sidhion sighed. "I suppose so."

They watched in silence for a moment. Finally, Erik asked something that had been bothering him for some time. "Who is Erland?"

Sidhion's head shot up while Kevin's eyes widened dramatically.

"What did you say?" The vampire croaked.

"I was just wondering!" Erik said hastily.

"Don't you _dare_ mention that…man ever again here!" Sidhion hissed. "Have you talked to Amme about him?"

"No."

"Good! Keep it that way." Sidhion glared at him. "And remember, _never_ say _anything_ about him! Is that clear?"

"Oh, completely."

Kevin waited until the king of Ahsela had left before snarling, "Who the hell do you think you are, human? Do you have _any_ idea what that monster did?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked," Erik retorted.

The vampire's eyes darkened. "You _will not_ say anything about him to Amme. How did you even find out about him in the first place?"

The Phantom bit his tongue. He sensed Kevin wouldn't like it if he found out how Erik knew about Erland.

-

Virginia is a lot more important than just supplying a few moments conversation with Erik! I may enjoy introducing new characters, but that doesn't mean they have no use!

And Erik is completely right in thinking Kevin would not like how he found out about Erland. He'd probably suck out all the Phantom's blood then and there.  
Yes, it is true. If I wrote out an actual battle between Kevin and Erik, Kevin would win. Sorry people! But Kevin's a vampire…!


	16. Human Vs Human

To stateofmind7337: If you left Erik and Kevin in a room for twelve hours, they'd probably both end up dead. Which would ruin the story. It'd be interesting to watch, though. And, Kevin wants me to tell you, "_Voj wolnis frosp tenoso leisen kine, e hikesen vi."_

To everyone: once again, I'm sorry about the wait. I was killed again by my pet vampire, Jack.

-

Amme ran through the trees down an almost completely hidden path to the vampire city in the northwest corner of Ahsela. She remembered taking this road many times before as a child, and then as a teenager. But when she had grown up, she had stopped going there so much. Maybe it was because she saw Kevin so often, they couldn't stand each other many more times. But now that had changed.

"Do you really think it's wise to leave your human friend alone in the city?"

Amme halted. Looking up, she saw Kevin perched on a tree branch, smirking down at her.

"I was just going to see you!" She smiled.

He jumped down lightly. "Really? But you left your…friend behind."

"So? He can take care of himself."

"I've noticed." Kevin yawned, showing his long, white fangs. "Just out of curiosity, is it true he lives under that opera theatre you worked?"

"Yes, he does," Amme confirmed. "And I do actually still work there. I'm just taking some—what do they call it?—personal days."

"So, what you're saying is, you'll have to go back?"

"Eventually, yes."

He made a face. "And I thought you'd be staying for good, _selise._ Shows you how much I know."

"I'm sorry, Kevin. But he is going to want to go back sometime, and I have to go with him. I promised I would."

"Unless he's dead."

"Don't, please. It's not really that bad."  
"_Selise,_ he wants you to stay with him for the rest of his life. So the only way for you to be free is if he's dead. And he probably won't die for some more years."

"I'll manage." Amme sighed. "He's really not as horrible as some people make him out to be."

"I thought he was some murdering, kidnapping, stalking man. At least, that's what I heard."

"Stop it, Kevin," Amme pleaded. "He's been very kind to me."

Kevin looked her straight in the eye. "_Selise,_ you don't know anything good about him. You don't know who he is, where he came from, or even what his real name is. You don't why he wears a mask, or what's underneath it. And you _know_ he's killed people, stalked people, kidnapped people, tortured people, and…"

"I get the idea!" Amme snapped. "And you've tortured and killed people, too!"

"That's different. I'm a vampire, he's a human!"

"I don't care. Kevin, really, accusing him of these things you yourself have done…well, it's not going to convince me."

Kevin exhaled. "We're never going to agree on this, are we, _selise?"_

Amme smiled crookedly. "I'm afraid not. I know you just worry about me, Kevin. So if you won't be angry with me, I won't be angry with you, and we can forget this conversation ever happened."

"I can deal with that."

"In that case, I should probably go back. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He grinned. "I'll be there!"

Walking home was almost more fun than running to see Kevin. Almost, mind you, almost. Amme did love running, but it had turned extremely dark and she preferred to walk in the dark. Anyways, she wasn't in any hurry.

She was just about to regret that decision.

"Hello, Amme."

Amme swore and jerked around, scanning the darkness. Her eyes fell upon a young man. His wavy chestnut hair had grown longer since the last time she saw him; it nearly covered his wide hazel eyes. His thin mouth was twisted up into a horrible smirk.

"I thought you were banished from this country, Erland." Amme said coldly.

"Well, it isn't actually _my_ home country, so I thought it didn't matter." His eyes grew bright. "Anyways, I missed seeing you."

"Go to hell!"

"Now, now, Amme, what would your dear, dead sister think if she heard you talking like that?" Erland grinned.

"She would agree with me!"

He snickered. "I don't doubt that. She never liked me, did she?"

"She was smart."

"Oh, compared to you, certainly."

Amme felt around for a weapon of some kind to use. Erland noticed this.

"Don't tell me you're unarmed! This must be a first for you, Amme Eledhwen!"

Instead of answering, the elf sent a mental plea to Starlight for help. She waited for a reply, but nothing came. She had the strangest feeling the message had gotten intercepted somehow.

"What is it, Amme?" Erland taunted, drawing his sword. "Did you send a little message to your friend, Starlight? Are you afraid of me, afraid of me killing you? That's really pathetic, you know."

"Shut up, Erland, you stupid bastard!"

"Definitely not nice." He pressed his sword against her neck. "Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners? Oh, right, she can't, because she dead! Like your stupid sister!"

Amme hissed catlike.

"Are you ready to die now, Amme, dear?" Erland whispered. "Just like them?"

Amme was fully prepared to start kicking him when a whistling sound caught both their attentions. Another sword whipped through the air and clanged against Erland's.

Amme took advantage of his momentary lapse in attention by kicking him in the groin and punching him on the nose.

"Oof!" Erland fell to the ground.

The Phantom pointed his blade at Erland's heart. Then he asked Amme: "Would you be unhappy if I killed him right now?"

She snorted. "Why should I be?"

"You'll have to try harder than that to kill me!" Erland snarled. He hit away the Phantom's sword with his own and stood up again. Shrieking like a demon, he lunged forward. The Phantom barely managed to step back.

Erik lashed out his blade, connecting with Erland's. Erland growled, and thrust back, nearly knocking the Phantom to the ground. Regaining his balance, Erik whipped his sword around again, and this time caught Erland on his shoulder. Erland stumbled backwards before recovering himself and attacking with new vim.

And so it went on. One moment, Erik was winning; then next, Erland had the upper hand. The two of them were fairly equal swordsmen; Erland had had much more training and experience, but Erik was smarter, quicker, and a faster learner.

Amme, who was standing off to the side, watched the duel nervously. She couldn't get involved, for fear of hurting the Phantom. But she hated feeling so helpless and weak and, to use Erland's word, pathetic.

Erland finally managed to gasp, "Your new lover is much more impressive in action than appearance, Amme. I must say, though, you have some strange tastes."

Both Amme and Erik refused to be goaded into answering. Instead, Erik lunged in, his blade aimed straight for Erland's heart.

Erland quickly blocked him before continuing. "Really, Amme, a man in a mask? I thought you didn't like masks!"

Amme started hunting for a rock to throw, while Erik's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Do you really know anything about him?" Erland panted.

The elf finally found a good sized rock, and was ready to hurl it at the man when Erik twisted his sword around, catching the hilt of Erland's. A quick jerk, and Erland was disarmed.

Desperately, Erland backed up. "Do you know anything about her?" He rasped to the Phantom. "Do you know how easy it was to make her fall in love with me? Do you know how fickle she can be?"

Erik paused, curious despite himself. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know her, then," Erland wheezed, clearly relieved the Phantom had stopped coming closer. "Let me tell you something, one man to another. If she gets bored of you first, she'll leave you without a second's consideration. If you are the first to tire, and you try to leave _her,_ she'll call you, evil, a traitor, the spawn of Satan."

"You _were_ a traitor!" Amme yelled. "You used me to spy on Ahsela! On my father! You pretended to be in love with me so I would be willing to give you information!"

"I never said I was in love with you," Erland denied, smirking.

"What? You little…" Amme turned to the Phantom. "Don't listen to him! He did! He said he loved him! He promised we'd get married…"

Erik had heard enough. He strolled over to Erland.

"No, wait!" Erland begged, but Erik plunged his sword into the other's stomach. Then he looked back at Amme.

"I want to hear the whole story, Amme. Don't cut out anything; I want to know everything."

Amme sighed. "There's not much to tell. We met, I fell in love, I told him so, he said he loved me back. Much later, Papa found out what he really wanted, and he banished him. It nearly killed me, too," she added in a whisper.

"And I suppose I should be thanking you, human, for killing him." Sidhion said from behind them.

Erik smiled. "Does this mean you won't hate me so much anymore?"

"If that will count as my thanks, then yes, I won't hate you anymore."

"But the _selise_ hasn't told you the whole story yet," Kevin said, coming from behind the elf man.

"He doesn't need to know that part of it, Kevin," Amme replied hastily.

"Amme," Erik said. "I told you, I want to hear to whole story. Don't edit, please."

Amme flushed and glared at the vampire. "Papa had…interrupted us. We were…going to…well…"

"You didn't!" Erik snarled.

"No, we didn't!" She shot back before becoming embarrassed. "I did have my shirt off, though."

"Great…" Erik muttered.

"It wasn't that bad," Amme said, moving closer. "He's dead now. And…I need to thank you doing that."

Erik frowned. "And how are you—" he was cut off by Amme's lips pressing against his.

Time seemed to pass slowly as they kissed. Kevin watched looking amused, while Sidhion twitched and coughed several times. He did that more frequently as the kiss became more passionate.

Finally, he said moodily, "Are you two quite done yet?"

They broke apart. The Phantom turned bright red while Amme laughed happily. She twisted her fingers around his. Leaning forward, she whispered in Erik's ear, "Do you want to go home soon?"

"To Ahsela, or Paris?"

"Paris, of course," She smiled. "I made a promise to you, remember?"

"So," Erik said cautiously. "About marriage…"

Amme glared at him. "My gratitude only goes so far, human. Don't go there if you know what's good for you. I made that mistake once before, and I'm never, _never,_ ever doing that again!"

-

No, Amme does _not_ love Erik. Please, don't even think it. She likes him quite a lot, though. That's something.

If you want the reason why you should hate Erland so much, first, refer to chapter seven, "Background Check" near the bottom of the chapter, and then to this chapter, right before Erik kills him. Then, I want to tell you that if it weren't for Erland, Erik would have things much, much easier with Amme.  
Think about _that_.


	17. The Mask

It was a beautiful day in Paris, France. At least, beautiful if your definition of the word was the sun beating down onto the pavement, giving almost everyone a sunburn if they stayed outside for long periods of time without wearing sun block. (Was sun block even invented then?) The intense heat made the people who _hadn't_ run for the cover of shade perspire like crazy. If you liked those kind of days, it was absolutely gorgeous out. Otherwise, it would be better for you to stay inside.

Alas, it was a Monday, so the people who wanted to stay home and rest had to go back to work. In other words, there were a lot of unhappy people in the opera house that day.

Joshua Eddison was one of them. But not because of the heat. He desperately wanted to see Amme Eledhwen again, but she seemed to be avoiding him.

"Hey, Amme!" He called when he reached the theatre.

"Not now, Joshua," she called back. "I'm busy!"

"Amme, I need to talk to you right now!"

"Can't it wait until lunch?" She asked crossly.

He pulled into her dressing her and shut the door.

"Joshua Eddison! Please, this is a very bad time!" She went to reopen the door.

"Just wait, Amme. I really need to talk to you." Josh said quickly. "Leave the door closed, okay?"

Amme paused. "What do you want?"

"Well, Amme," he started awkwardly. "I've been hearing a lot of things about you and…someone else."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really. Absolutely fascinating. If this is all you wanted to talk about, Joshua, I'm leaving right now."

"No, it's not all!" He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "The…someone isn't…someone I think you should…be with, Amme."

Amme snorted. "You'll have to be much clearer than that if you want me to understand you, Joshua."

"The…someone is…who people call the Phantom of the Opera."

"And you think I should leave him."

Josh nodded eagerly.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Joshua Eddison, but it's really none of your business."

"It is my business!" Josh exploded. "He's a maniac! He's a murder! He wears a mask! Do you know what people say he looks like underneath it? Or have you seen his entire face already? You know he kills people who take it off? He deserves to be stabbed and shot and burned and drowned and…"

"Are you done yet?" Amme interrupted peevishly.

"Not really."

"Too bad," She sighed. "I'm sorry, Joshua, but I still don't see how this is any of your concern, and unless you can convince me otherwise, stay out of it!"

Josh frowned. "Amme, be reasonable. I'm just trying to help you!"

"You're sticking your nose in my business, and I don't appreciate it!"

"You're tangling yourself with a monster!"

"He is _not_ a monster!" She gasped. "Don't you call him that!"

"I'll call him whatever I bloody well want to!"

"Back off, Joshua Eddison. I mean it, you will back off right now."

"You can't tell me what to do!" Josh yelled.

"I can tell you want to do just as much as you can tell me." Amme glared at him. "Do we understand each other?"

"I'll get you for this," he growled. "I swear I will."

"Swear whatever you want. I've had enough of this conversation." She left.

-

"…and that's when I left."

Amme finished retelling her conversation with Joshua to Erik, who looked like he was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Do you want me to kill him for you?" He snickered.

Clearly, he failed in his goal.

"I'd rather you didn't actually," the elf replied seriously. "But if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know."

"And I'll get right on it." His face became solemn. "Do _you_ wonder what's underneath my mask?"

"Of course, but I think I'll survive the rest of my life without knowing, if you don't want to tell me."

Erik relaxed. "Thank you. I don't want you ever to find out."

She eyed him. "But I would prefer it if you trusted me enough to tell me."

"This isn't about trust!" He said, frustrated. "It's more…me being afraid of what you'll do?"

"That's the same as trust, genius."

The human sighed and shook his head. "It's not that I don't trust you, Amme. Really. It's just…whenever people see…it, they immediately hate and despise me. I can't let that happen between us."

"It won't," Amme promised. "I'm not like other people. You should know that by now. I mean, I'm an elf! I think of things differently than humans do."

"So I've noticed," said Erik dryly.

Amme stuck her nose in the air and looked away primly.

"Alright! Alright!" Erik chuckled. He put his hand under her chin and made her turn back to him. "You don't need to be so sensitive, darling."

"I'll be as sensitive as I want," she informed him.

He kissed her lightly on the nose. "If that's what you really truly desire, then so be it." Pulling her closer, he buried his face in her hair. "I love you so much."

Amme didn't answer; she never did whenever he said things like that.

-

Joshua caught up to her the next day as she left her dressing room (Carlotta had been demoted to _Amme's _understudy).

"I was wondering something, Amme. How do you manage to get down into the sewers?"

"Why do you care?"

"I told you," Josh smiled. "I'm just curious."

"And why are you so curious?"

"Why aren't you answering the question?"

Amme spun around to face him. "There's a reason why the Phantom lives underneath there, and the reason is he likes to be left alone."

"But he lets you live with him." Josh countered.

"That's different! He doesn't like a lot of people always interrupting him! He's not a very social person."

"So I've noticed," he sniggered. "Social people don't wear masks and live in sewers."

"Will you just shut up about where he lives and what he wears?" Amme snapped.

"I'm oh-so sorry to annoy you, Amme, dear, but I don't think you're seeing this man very clearly."

"I have better eyesight than you."

"I have twenty-twenty vision. And I wasn't talking about sight in the literal sense."

"Then what were you talking about?" She sighed.

"Amme, the man's a monster, and…"

"No, he's not!" She interrupted. "So what if bad things have happened to him. Bad things have happened to me! Does that make _me_ a monster?"

"Amme, it's not that bad things have _happened _to him! It's that he's _done_ _horrible_ things!"

"So have I! Am I a monster?"

Josh blinked. "No, you haven't. Not as bad as him, anyways. You've never killed anyone."

"Yes, I have! I've probably killed more people than he has!"

He thought carefully. "In that case, you probably had a much better reason to kill them than just because someone took off his mask!"

Amme took a deep breath. "Do you know that for a fact?"

"Amme…that's…"

_"Do you know that for a fact?!"_

He gritted his teeth together. "No."  
"Then this conversation is _over._ Repeat, _over!"_

-

Amme was walking back down to meet the Phantom when she sensed she was being followed. She turned, but saw no one. Frowning, she looked over her dressing room carefully, but there was certainly nobody there.

But the feeling didn't leave.

Amme shook her head; her senses had probably become out of whack ever since Emily was murdered. That would explain why she could never sense the Phantom.

She opened the mirror and followed the road down. The Phantom had shown her which way to reach the lake until he was certain she could make it on her own. And then a few times extra, just to be sure, as he said.

"Amme!"

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. Or in this case, think of the Phantom, and the Phantom shall appear.

Amme grinned. "I thought we were going to meet by the lake tonight."

"I got worried." He grabbed her and swung her around.

"Put me down!" She laughed dizzily.

He set her back on the ground. "I missed you."

"I've been gone for what? Ten hours?"

"Approximately." He chuckled. "I still missed you."

Amme raised a thin eyebrow. "You are a strange man. A very, _very_ strange man."

"Yes, I know." He looked up the path she had just come from, frowning. "Did someone follow you here?"

"I'm not sure," she looked back too. "I thought so, but my sensing has been so off lately, I was afraid I was wrong."

"I don't think so," He shifted weight from one foot to the other. "I'm getting the same feeling."

"Well," Amme frowned. "I suppose I could go back and check?"

"No, let me."

Just as he started walking back, a man leapt out of the shadows and rushed at him. Before the Phantom had a chance to swear in seven different languages and get a good grip on his lasso, the man had torn off his mask.

Erik shrieked and covered the right side of his face, but not before Amme had gotten an excellent look as to why he always kept it covered.

His skin was red, raw, and shiny, but also very thin, and seemed to cling to his bone, as if decaying slowly. His eye protruded quite a lot, but that was only to be expected because there wasn't enough flesh around it to make it appear normal.

Furiously, he took his hand away and grabbed the Punjab lasso. The other man spluttered, "It was nothing personal! Really! He promised money! More than I'd be able to make in a life…" he was cut off by the rope tightened around his neck.

"No!" Amme screamed. She took hold of the Phantom's arm and yanked hard. "Let him go! He said he was paid! It's not his fault!"

But her pleas had come too late: the man was dead.

Amme stared at the body for several seconds with wide, horrified eyes. But when they turned to the Phantom, the horror had turned to fury.

Erik, who was very busy making sure his mask was in place, didn't notice her anger until she hissed, "How could you?"

He looked up, confused. "Excuse me?"

"How could you do something like that?" She cried.

"Very easily. Do you want me to teach you how?"

Amme shuddered.

"What's wrong with you?" Erik said, exasperated. "You didn't mind when I killed Leclerc or Erland!"

"That was different!" She shot back. "This man didn't do anything to you!"

"He took off my mask. I really don't like that."

Amme gaped at him. "And that deserves death?"

"Depends on who does it."

"Well, it shouldn't! What makes this man different from whoever else took off that mask and managed to live?"

"The other person was Christine," Erik said coldly. "And she's not someone I'm going to kill anytime soon."

"Would you kill me if I took it off?" Amme challenged.

"Certainly not! But I love you, so that's different."

She took a deep breath. It didn't succeed in calming her. "He said someone had paid him to do this. Why didn't you wait to see who did that, and then kill him?"

"Because this idiot had agreed to it in the first place. He did it of his own free will, and no one made him do anything."

"Maybe he needed the money!"

"No, actually, he doesn't. Despite what you think, Amme, I do know who I just killed, and I also know he didn't need any money whatsoever. And I have a fairly good idea who paid him."

"And that makes it justified for taking someone's life?"

Erik shrugged. "Perhaps."

"You make me sick," Amme snarled. "If this is really how you treat people…it's one thing to hear about it from Joshua, it's another to see it happen."

"Is this really about what I did, or how I look?" The Phantom demanded.

"Where does your appearance fit into this?" She hissed.

"It's everything! It's why I wear a mask, why I live down here in the bloody opera house sewers in the first bloody place! It's why I killed him; so you wouldn't see it!"

"That's what you care about?" Amme said in disbelief. "That's what you blame everything on? I never would have thought you so vain before. But then again, I never would have supposed you'd do something like this before, either."

"Amme…" Erik started to say, reaching out to touch her.

Amme smacked his hand away. "I'm leaving. I'm not coming back."

"You've said that before, and look where it got you."

"That was different. I know exactly what I'm doing this time." She started to leave. Without turning around, she said, "Stay away from me, or I swear, I'll stab you."

"So if I kill someone, it's wrong, but it's fine for you to kill me? Is that it, Amme Eledhwen?" Erik shouted after her.

Amme never answered.


	18. Notes

Guess what I discovered? I accidentally posted the wrong version of chapter 17! It's not that big of a deal, I had only changed a few lines about Erik's disfigurement, but it's still kinda funny.

-

Amme had moved back to living in the forest. In some ways, she was more comfortable there then living under the opera house. She actually preferred not having a roof over her head.

Some, however, did not share her feelings in the slightest.

_Why am we stuck back here just because you had a little fight with that guy in the mask?_ Starlight asked grumpily.

"He _killed_ someone, Starlight!"

_So what? At least it was drier down there!_

"He lives by a lake. A lake is _not_ what I'd call 'dry.'"

_Waterfront property. Complete with boat and dock!_

"Be quiet," Amme muttered. Cats were impossible to argue with.

Fate was not much better. _Really, Amme. I don't think the man knows he shouldn't kill people like that. I mean, honestly, people have been treating him so horribly, so of course he thinks he can do the same!_

"You mean it's alright for him to take a life?" Amme said incredulously.

_I think you should try to understand it from his point of view. Just because you've known killing is wrong doesn't mean everyone else does._

"I think he should be able to figure it out! Why else do people hate him so much?"

_Hate is a strong word,_ Starlight informed her.

_I think he thinks people don't like him because of his face,_ Fate explained.

Amme curled into a tight ball and propped her head on her knees. "I didn't think there was much wrong with his face. It's not as though he's really worse than the average human."

_Some people would disagree,_ Fate replied.

"I don't care, Fate! He's wallowing in self-pity, and it doesn't impress me in the slightest!"

_You have a point there,_ Starlight admitted. She got up and strolled onto Amme's right shoulder. _Pet me._

Amme heaved a heavy sigh, but scratched the kitten behind the ears. "You know, I'm not making you two stay here. If you want to go back, I certainly won't stop you."

_Yeah, but it'll make us feel really guilty,_ Starlight scoffed. _I don't think so. Feeling guilty is bad for one's fur._

_I agree with Starlight except for that last comment,_ Fate said.

-

"I don't get it," Erik said, frustrated. "I just don't get it! Why did she leave?"

"Because you killed someone, and she didn't like that?" Laetitia offered helpfully.

The human sat and buried his face in his hands. "But she knows I've killed people! Why should this be different?"

"Because she actually saw you do it? I don't know! Why don't you ask her?"

"But she doesn't want to see me again!" He cried.

Laetitia pursed her lips. "I didn't think that ever stopped you before. But then again, you do seem to have changed."

"From what? No, don't answer that; I don't care." He dug his fingers deep into his thick hair. "What should I do about Amme? Laetitia, I really need your help!"

"Well, this is a first, isn't it," She turned a quick somersault underwater. "I think you need to try talking to her. If you can make her understand _why_ you did what you did, she'll forgive you."

"And if she doesn't talk to me?" He asked desperately.

"Then…you're screwed?"

"Thank you so much for that," Erik snapped, sounding much more like his normal self.

Laetitia grinned. "You are very welcome!"

Erik shook his head before standing up. "But about Amme…?"

"Try writing her a letter?" The mermaid suggested. "You don't seem to have any problem with doing that."  
"This doesn't have anything to do with what I do and don't have problems with doing. Right now, it's what happens if Amme decides not to read the note."

"Write her another one. And another one. And another one. And…"

"I get the idea," He interrupted hastily. He sighed. "If that's the best idea…that's what I'll do."

"Wonderful!" Laetitia beamed. "Now, I've been meaning to tell you something. I've invited a couple friends of mine over for a few hours on Saturday, just for a little get-together, okay?"

-

Amme entered the theatre early one morning to be intercepted by Madame Giry, who looked rather upset about something.

"What's wrong?" Amme asked, concerned. "Did something happen?"

"No," Madame Giry sighed. "I was just…asked to give you this, and I hate feeling like a messenger-boy."

Amme took the note and rose curiously. It had her name written neatly and clearly on front in a handwriting she knew only too well.

With a sinking feeling inside, she flipped it over, broke the seal, opened it, and read.

_Dearest Amme,_

_I cannot begin to express my deepest apologies for the way I treated you at our last meeting. I hope that we might be able to talk this over some time, preferably soon. I desperately want you back with me._

_I remain, _

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

Amme glanced up at Madame Giry, who watched her carefully. "Well," the elf said breezily. "Thank you very much for delivering this. I don't think you have to do that anymore. Thank you again."

Later that day, Amme burned both the letter and the rose.

The next evening, Amme found another letter stuck in the tree she slept in. She was not happy at all about this, and it also told her the Phantom knew where she lived. But curiosity overwhelmed her, and she read it anyways.

_Amme,_

_You didn't answer my last letter, so I thought I would try again. I'm sorry if I seem rude, but I really need to talk to you. Can I meet you tomorrow in your dressing room at ten thirty?_

_I remain_

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

Ten thirty the next evening in Amme's dressing room, Erik entered to see if she would be there. Instead of the elf, he found a note.

_O.G._

_Leave me alone._

_With all due respect,_

_Amme Eledhwen_

The next morning, the Phantom wrote back.

_Amme,_

_Your letter wasn't exactly what I'd call polite. I'm feeling rather insulted at the moment, so I'll probably be just as blunt. I'm not going to leave you alone, so just get over it._

_Can I talk with you tonight? Please? It's very important._

_I remain,_

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

_O. G._

_Clearly, you did not understand the meaning of my last letter. I specifically stated you leave me alone, and writing me a letter is not following my wishes. I will repeat them, and I hope, for your sake, you will listen: leave—me—alone!_

_With all due respect,_

_Amme Eledhwen_

_P.S. No, we cannot talk tonight._

_Amme, dear,_

_Don't you think you're being a little too harsh? I understood both your letters completely; I just chose to ignore them. Don't think for a moment I ignore all your wishes: just the ones I don't like._

_I remain,_

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

_P.S. If you don't agree to talk to me, I will continue to annoy you in this same fashion. The choice is yours._

_O.G._

_This is the last letter you will be receiving from me. And I hope you will not send any in reply._

_Imagine this: a human male is annoying an elf princess. Said elf princess is very famous with using her swords and daggers. She can't get it through to the stupid human that she wants him to stop, so she is going to try one last time before she snaps and cuts out his tongue, something he would not like at all because he takes great pride in being an excellent singer. If he wishes to retain this ability, he will get the _hell_ out of her life _right now!

_I hope you have enjoyed my little story. Think about it for a few moments._

_With all due respect,_

_Amme Eledhwen_

"She's threatening me now, Laetitia." Erik called after receiving Amme's last letter. "There goes your brilliant plan."

"You agreed to it!" Laetitia shot back. "Anyways, did you have any better ideas?"

Erik growled.

"I thought so," the mermaid said smugly. "What's she threatening you with, anyhow?"

"She said if I write her another note, she'll cut out my tongue." He replied grumpily. "Not necessarily in those words."

"Ouch," Laetitia winced. "What were her words? Never mind; I don't want to know. What are you going to do now?"

Erik glanced back down at the letter he held; then he looked at the other two laying on his desk. Finally, he looked at Laetitia. "Do you think she's serious with her threat?"

"She sounds pretty serious to me."

He grinned. "In that case, I'm going to write her a letter."

-

Amme was walking to the theatre when she was intercepted by one of the new ballet girls.

"E-excuse me," the girl stuttered. "I-I was t-told to g-give you this," she held out a piece of paper.

Amme took it reluctantly.

_Amme, darling,_

_Your last letter to me was very interesting. I wasn't aware you were such a wonderful storyteller. Perhaps you could finish it sometime. I would love to see how it ends!_

_Speaking of love, when was the last time I told you how much I love you? It seems so long ago. I still do and I'll never stop._

_I remain,_

_Your obedient servant,_

_O.G._

Amme ripped up the letter in frustration. This man was making things extremely difficult for her.

"M-miss?" The ballet girl was still there, looking very confused. "I-is it b-b-bad news?"

"No," Amme said. "I mean, yes. I mean…nothing. Never mind; don't worry about it."

"Can I go back, or are you going to respond?" The girl asked, calming down dramatically.

Amme shook her head. "No. No reply is expected. You can go now."

The girl ran off quickly.

Amme sighed. Was that human really so stupid as to think that was only a story? As Kevin would say: he _is_ just a human. What do you expect? But Amme had been confident he would have figured it out. Hell, _Joshua_ could probably have figured it out!

Just what was that human planning?


	19. Tempers

Amme was facing two very serious dilemmas. On one hand, she very much wanted to go back to the sewers and cut out that annoying Phantom's tongue. On the other hand, she really didn't want to see him again. She also didn't want to hurt him any, but that wasn't something she'd ever admit.

The other dilemma was Josh. She suspected he had paid that poor dead man to take off the Phantom's mask, and she also suspected he knew that poor dead man would be killed because of it. The problem? She didn't know how to say this to Josh.

Having two confusing and unsolved problems did not in any way put Amme in the best mood. She became rather snappish to Madame Giry, the managers, and Carlotta, and even Meg and Christine found themselves on the wrong side of her temper a few times.

Josh, however, got none of it because Amme was thoroughly ignoring him, much to the Phantom's delight. When circumstances did force her to talk to him, her answers were short and rude, also to the Phantom's delight.

But that was not to say Erik had the better end of the situation. True, Amme was not outwardly rude to him, nor was she snappish. But she ignored him just as completely as Joshua Eddison, despite the amount of notes he sent to her. Each one became a tiny pile of ashes in some fireplace.

"Alright," He finally said to Laetitia. "This plan isn't working. She obviously wasn't serious with her threat."

"Most people aren't," Laetitia informed him.

"True." He glanced down at her notes she had written to him. "I'm going to talk to her tonight. Right after rehearsal gets done."

The mermaid snorted. "Better you than me."

-

Amme returned to her dressing room with some reluctance. Every night, without fail, the Opera Ghost had been slipping a note in there. While she had stopped reading them, it showed he hadn't forgotten about her. She wanted him to forget her, simply because that would make it much easier to forget about him.

Opening the door, Amme went inside and let out a shriek. There was not a note from the Opera Ghost in there, but the Opera Ghost himself.

"Calm down!" He snapped. "I'm not going to kill you!"

The elf crossed her arms and frowned at him, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I just wanted to talk to you. Is that alright?" He asked the last bit rather sarcastically. It really didn't matter to him if it was all right with her or not.

She didn't respond. Instead, she continued to scowl and tap her foot.

"Fine." The Phantom took a deep breath. "I have no idea what your problem is. You knew before I killed people. Hell, you _saw_ me kill that…Erland. So, why are you making such a bloody big deal out of this?"

"Because," Amme replied coldly. "There is a world of difference between you killing Erland, and you killing some random stranger."

"He was _not_ some random stranger! He took off my mask! I told you, I don't like that!"

"That is not reason to kill him!"

"It is to me!"

"Well, you desperately need to get your morals straightened out!"

The Phantom ground his teeth together. "We're never going to see eye to eye on this, are we?"

"Certainly not! Because you don't seem able to admit I'm right and you're wrong!"

"Trust me, mademoiselle, I would _love_ to admit that, if only you would care to explain _how_ you're right and I'm wrong!"

Amme stopped her foot tapping. Instead, she became completely still; she didn't even blink. Then, very slowly, still without blinking, she said, "Killing is wrong, no matter the circumstances. But to kill someone because they just took off your mask? That's worse than wrong: that's evil. And _that's _the point I'm trying to make!"

"Okay. You made your point. I understand it. Can you come and live with me again?" Once he said this, he knew it was a mistake.

Amme's eyes flashed, and her mouth tightened into a thin line. The air in the room got dangerously hot, to the point Erik thought he knew what it was like to be burnt to death. Amme didn't appear to have noticed the extreme heat. She was too busy fighting to keep what little control she still processed her on magic before the room burst into flames. That didn't make one very aware of the temperature, even though she was actually the one causing the heat.

It didn't take long before Erik's magic kicked in. Without thinking, he conjured up buckets and buckets of water, and dropped it on Amme.

…

…

The stunned silence continued.

…

…

All that could be heard was the dripping of water from Amme's hair and clothes.

…Drip…drip…drip…

The room had cooled down dramatically, but not in a pleasant sort of way.

…Drip…drip…drip…

Amme's mouth was opened in shock, but all that came out was a tiny meow-like squeal.

…Drip…_meow_…drip…_meow_…

Finally, the elf started screaming. Her eyes were wide with surprise and horror as she stared at the Phantom.

"Amme! It's just water!" He tried to tell her, but it was unlikely she heard him over her cries.

She ran over and grabbed his cape, trying to yank it off. The Phantom made a choking noise, and quickly untied it. Amme started to dry her face, arms, legs, and torso off with it.

"You're getting my cape wet," he said in a poor attempt to be funny.

She rolled it in a ball and threw it at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Hard.

"Hey!"

"'It's just water!'" She shrieked. "You say it's 'just water,' but oh no! You're damn cape can't get wet, can it? It's alright if I do, but your cape can't? I _hate_ getting wet! I hate it, you stupid human!"

"There's no need to bring species into this," the Phantom said, backing away with both hands raised.

Amme stepped forward, fury glowing from her beautiful features.

"You—are—the—most—selfish—creature—I—have—_ever_—meet—in—my—_life!" _

"Fine!" He snarled. "So I'm selfish! Great we've got that settled! But I didn't mean to get you wet!"

"Get—out—of—here!" She shrieked. "I wish I never, _ever_ saw you! I never want to see you again!"

"Because I got you wet?" He asked in disbelief.

"Because you think it's _funny!"_

"I do not!"

Amme made a grab for a dagger, or a weapon of some kind she usually had on her, but found nothing. The Phantom, noticing this, drew his sword. Smiling, he placed it against the back of her neck. Once again, Amme froze.

"You can't tell me to leave you alone, my dear. You lost that ability long ago." Gently, he rubbed the flat end of the blade against her skin.

"I think I still can. Leave me _alone!"_ She hissed, trying to back away without getting her throat cut.

"I'm afraid, angel, I cannot oblige that wish," he chuckled.

Amme started again to feel around for a weapon of some kind she could use. And again, Erik saw this.

"What's the matter, darling? Did you forget your knife?"

She finally settled on a hairbrush. Faster than his eyes could see, she whacked him on the head with it.

"Ouch!" He stepped back.

Amme ran to the door, but before she left, she turned back around. Holding the hairbrush threateningly, she said, "I swear, if you come near me again, I'll kill you. This could be called harassment, you know, and that's illegal."

"So is killing people!" He retorted, rubbing his head. "And I have no problem doing that!"

The elf very quickly scooted out the door.

Just outside the door, she ran into someone. "Oh! I'm sorry!" She said quickly. "I didn't see…" But then she trailed off, because what she _did_ see was more than enough: a man with two different colored eyes; one was red with a black pupil, the other black with a red pupil. He smiled, showing teeth sharpened into points.

And then everything went black.

-

Joshua Eddison was not happy. No, not one little bit. He wasn't happy because his hair was getting split ends, but there was no one in Paris he trusted enough to cut it. He wasn't happy because the weather in France was not at all to his liking. But most of all, he wasn't happy because Amme Eledhwen hadn't talked to him in days.

That didn't mean he missed her conversation, because, really, who wants to hear a girl talk all the time? The only reason why he listened to her was so he was able to form a good response and impress her greatly. But Amme refused to be impressed. Even when he proved to her he was right about the Phantom and his obsession with masks, she never admitted it. Of course, she didn't actually _know_ he was the one to hire that dolt to take it off in the first place. At least, he _hoped_ she didn't know.

Did she?

Josh was contemplating this when he saw a large puddle of some red liquid on the floor that lead to Amme's dressing room. Cautiously, he went forward to investigate, and the liquid sparkled light blue. Leaning down, he poked it. It was a very thick liquid, rather like melted chocolate. Only, red melted chocolate that sparkled blue in the light.

The puddle had a trail coming out of it, so Josh followed, curious to see where it lead. And then he froze.

There was a figure dressed entirely in black, bending over something. The figure seemed to be a man, but it was hard to tell, nor could Josh tell what it was crouched over.

Josh cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me, but…" he stopped. The figure was suddenly gone.

Still careful, Josh crept towards the thing only to find out it was Amme.

She didn't look good, though. There was a long gash on her forehead, and the strange red liquid was trickling out. Her eyes were closed and her skin was paler than usual; she was barely breathing.

"This isn't good," Josh murmured, coming closer. Tentatively, he put a hand out on her forehead. It was burning hot. He quickly removed his hand.

"What did you_ do _to her?"

Josh jumped up and turned. For one who had never actually seen the Opera Ghost before, he recovered remarkably well. "I didn't do anything! You did this!"

Erik stalked nearly, holding his lasso in a threatening manner. "I did _what?_ Excuse me?"

"You were bending all over her!" Josh snapped, waving his arms as if that could explain everything. "You knocked her out and put some strange liquid on her forehead!"

Erik leaned in. "That's blood, you imbecile."

"Oh…" Josh blinked. "I knew that…"

"Of course you did," Erik muttered. He reached out and brushed a few strands of Amme's hair away from her face. Then he pressed his hand deeply onto the gash.

"What are you doing?" Josh shrieked. "That could give her an infection!"

Erik ignored this. Instead, he pushed his magic out into the wound, healing it completely. When he was done, he sat back on his haunches, waiting.

He didn't have to wait long. Soon, Amme opened one brown eye, and then the other. The first face she registered was Joshua. She tried to spring to her feet, but she had lost too much blood, and fell back down weakly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Her voice was not nearly as weak as her movements. It was also very rude.

"I just saved your life." Josh said proudly.

Erik snorted.

Amme turned to him. "Then what are _you _doing here?"

He grinned. "I just saved your life, too!"

Amme raised one eyebrow, and then the other. "Really. You both saved my life. Hmm."

"He did not!" Josh snapped. "He was the one who knocked you out and poured some strange liquid on your forehead!"

Amme touched her forehead, and then looked at her hand. "That's blood, you imbecile."

Erik sniggered.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Josh asked, hurt. "It doesn't _look_ like blood!"

"It's coming out of the veins in my head. What else could it be?"

"I don't know!" He cried. "Your brains?"

Amme shook her head. "You are one sad, sad creature."

Erik's sniggering got louder.

Her head snapped up in his direction. "Shut up! I don't think you did any more 'saving' of my life than he did!"

"Oh, I did," He assured her. "I healed the gash that had the 'strange liquid' coming out of it."

"Thank you," She said grudgingly. "But I think I would have been fine without you."

Erik watched her as she managed to stand up and stretch out, testing all her limbs. "You're still angry with me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am." She replied. "I am at you, too," she informed Josh before his smug expression got too sickening.

"What?! Why me?"

"Oh, I don't know! It might have something to do with you paying to have that man take off the Phantom's mask when you knew perfectly well that he'd be killed for it!"

Josh's mouth formed an _o_, but no sound came out.

"I knew you would figure it out!" Erik said delightedly.

"Don't think that makes me any less angry with you." She snapped. "I feel the exact same as I did at our last meeting, which was, oh, let's think, fifteen minutes ago?"

"Approximately." Erik agreed.

"But, Amme!" Josh said, confused. "I just saved your life! You don't know what that man could've done to you! You should be thanking me!"

Amme's eyes hardened. Turning to the Phantom, she said, "You've saved me twice, correct? Well, that will no longer have any meaning with me, because I will no longer _need_ any 'saving.' I was surprised this one time, and it will _not_ happen again." To both the men, she said, "I will not, repeat, will _not_ be the type of girl who constantly needs to be rescued. If I can get myself into trouble, you can bet I can get myself out as well."

And that, as they say, was that.


	20. Cats And Kidnappings

Okay, just want to say, fairly early on, I switch to first person. I've mentioned a few times how Amme wakes up screaming at night, and when it's in first person, it's her dreaming. I know I could have written it better, but I was too lazy to edit. This is me apologizing ahead of time, just in case you guys review to complain, or something like that. Hint, hint, hint.

Not saying you have to complain, though.

-

The sun had disappeared, so it wasn't nearly as hot out as it had been in the afternoon. The stars were sparkling and twinkling brightly as Amme walked home. But once she got into the forest, they disappeared, hidden by the branches and leaves. The ground was hard from the dry heat, and Amme shuddered at the thought of sleeping on it. The branch she usually slept on had broken off, and the others weren't nearly as comfortable.

_Hi, Amme!_ Starlight jumped up onto the elf's shoulder.

"Hello, Starlight."

The cat licked Amme's forehead, which still had dried blood on it. _What happened to you?_

"I'm not sure. One moment, I was walking out of my dressing room, and the next, I'm on the ground with two stupid, crazy, human males over me."

_If they did this, I'll tear them to bits._ Starlight bared her tiny teeth and growled.

"I don't think the did." Amme rubbed her brow. "I'm…I need to sleep. I slept only eight hours last night."

_Okay._ Starlight hopped off her shoulder and landed lightly on the hard ground. _Good night. I need to go hunting, so I'll see you in the morning._

Amme curled up catlike on the ground and closed her eyes. Next to her, Fate tore up the grass and chewed quietly. The wind blew lightly across the forest, and the horse stiffened, nostrils flared. But Amme didn't notice, because she was asleep.

_-_

_I ran along the forest floor, my feet barely touching the ground. Ahead of me, I sensed my home was close, close, close, though I couldn't see it through the thick trees. I ran harder, trying to catch a glimpse, but there was just more trees. Suddenly, I sensed someone, or something, was following, following, following me._

_I ran harder. I didn't know who they were, I didn't know what they wanted, I didn't know if they meant me harm or not, I just wanted to get away, away, away from them._

_I ran harder, but my pursuer did as well. They went faster, faster, faster than me. I tried to scream, but I was running too hard; my lungs felt they were going to burst._

_I ran harder, but not hard enough. My pursuer grabbed my arm with a cold, hard hand. I couldn't scream, I couldn't wretch my arm away; I could only run, run, run. _

_I ran harder, but my pursuer jerked me around. Violet eyes met mine. Once beautiful red hair hung down in tangles, stringy, coarse. Pale, yellowing skin stretched across bones, barely covering it. In some places, the bones shown, shown, shown through. Clothing hung off the frame, torn and dirty._

_I ran harder, but my mother dragged along behind me. Her mouth was close to my ear, and she whispered, whispered, whispered, "Guard Emily, Amme. Don't let him get Emily."_

_I ran harder, harder, harder. She whispered over, and over, "Guard Emily. Don't let him get Emily. You let him get Emily. You failed Emily. You failed me, Amme."_

_I ran harder, finally able to scream. I wretched my arm from my mother, and ran harder, harder, harder. Violet eyes followed me, angry, cold, accusing. My mother haunted me; my sister haunted me. She followed me in the forest, in my dream forest. _

_I ran harder, but Emily followed, followed, followed. "Don't trust him, Amme! He will betray you, Amme!"_

_I ran harder, harder, harder, and she called louder, louder, louder, "Don't trust him! He will betray you! You trusted him! He betrayed you! It's all your fault, Amme! You failed me! You failed everyone!"_

_I ran harder, but I couldn't run from my mother, from my sister. They followed me, shouting, shouting, shouting._

_I ran harder. I reached my home. My home, Ahsela. It was burning, burning, burning to the ground. Dead bodies of my mother, sister, father, friends, my people rose up and stared at me with accusing eyes. The forest floor became blood, the trees became blood, and my people came closer, eyes burning, arms outstretched, pointing. Pointing at me. My home continued to burn, burn, burn._

_I ran harder, harder, harder, away from my home, abandoning my people. Far away, I could see an island, where the sea of blood did not touch. I ran towards it. A man stood in the center, looking my way. He looked familiar, though I could not recognize him._

_I ran harder, harder, harder, towards the island, towards the man, away from my home, away from my people. My people screamed, screamed, screamed. My mother and my sister's voice stood out against the rest. They screamed curses at me, accusing me, insulting me._

_I ran harder. The island was closer, closer, closer. The familiar, and yet unfamiliar man smiled at me, reaching out a hand. Behind me, the voices of my people faded slowly, slowly, slowly, until they were barely more than a whisper. _

_I ran harder, almost there, almost safe. I reached out my hand; I was close, close, close. I touched his hand, and he smiled wider. Then he disappeared. Along with the island, along with my safety._

_I ran harder, but the sea of blood slowed me down. My home continued to burn, burn, burn, and my people continued to scream, scream, scream, and the blood continued to rise, rise, rise up. It was at my knees, at my waist, at my shoulders, at my neck. _

_I ran harder, but the blood weighed my down. The blood of my mother, the blood of my sister, the blood of my people, the blood of me. It weighed me down, down, down. It had risen above my head. And I was drowning, drowning, drowning, in a sea of blood._

_And it was all my fault._

Amme woke up from her dreaming sweating and shaking all over.

"Well," said a cold voice. "Look at that! She wakes up just in time to go back to sleep!"

Amme flipped herself onto her feet. "Who the hell are you?"

The man tutted and the men behind him laughed. "Swearing isn't good, Amme."

The elf opened her mouth and then paused. "How do you know my name?" She asked slowly.

The man pushed his short brown hair back and smirked. "I know lots of things, Amme Eledhwen. That doesn't mean I'll share how I know them with you."

"Fine." She snapped. "Now, who the hell are you?"

"You asked me that already," the man said, lazily checking his fingernails.

"Because you didn't answer!"

"And I'm not going to. Not now, anyways." He stood up. The man was about the height as Amme, though considerably broader at the shoulders, obviously.

As if the standing had been a sign, three of the men came down upon the elf with daggers and ropes.

Amme jumped rapidly into the tree before leaping off again, landing on top of one of the men. He gasped in pain, and let go of his knife, which Amme immediately grabbed. Swinging herself around, she caught one of the other man's arms and, with the dagger, sliced his neck opened. Blood poured down onto the neck, blade, and Amme's hands.

The other men froze, and the leader let out an impressed whistle. "Well, Amme. You've got more guts than most people I kidnap."

"You WHAT?!" Amme shrieked, lunging at him.

Another man tried to step quickly in between them, but Amme slashed at him with the dagger, cutting him deeply across his chest.

An arm reached around to grab her. She slashed it off viciously before jerking around and stabbing the man in the heart.

"You know," the leader said conversationally as more and more men attacked Amme. "I almost got you only a few hours ago. Only some stupid, blond pretty-boy got in the way. Next time I see him, I think I'll kill him."

Amme had no chance to respond because she was too busy trying to free the dagger from someone's lungs.

"I notice someone healed the gash I gave you," he continued. "It couldn't have been the blond, he didn't look like he had enough magic to fill a teaspoon. But it wasn't healed with elf magic, either. I can tell. Who did it?"

Amme still couldn't respond; she hadn't freed the dagger, so she was crushing someone's skull with a tree.

"You know," he remarked. "If I were you, I wouldn't be putting up such a fight. You're horse did and, well, look what happened to _it."_ He nodded at a dark shape on the ground.

Amme realized what the shape was and froze. Someone hit her on the back of her head with a makeshift club, and she collapsed, with Fate's dead body burned into her eyelids.

-

Erik stared blankly at the stage. He was sitting comfortably in box five, though he wasn't one hundred percent sure why he was there. He just needed to sit and think for a few moments, and that seemed like a good spot.

Laughing at Amme at their last meeting had probably not been the best idea. She had left very, very angry, and getting Amme angry had never been a good idea. Then again, she had already been so furious at him, it probably didn't make much of a difference. Idly, Erik wondered if he could turn that into an opera.

"Hey, human!"

Jerked out of his reverie, Erik scanned the empty audience seats until he saw Kevin Lonesomhel smirking up at him.

"Can I help you?" Erik asked, but not because he was being polite. The sooner he found out what the bloodsucker wanted, the faster said bloodsucker would leave.

In one fluid leap, Kevin was sitting on the railing of box five.

"So," he began, crossing his arms. "Where's the princess? Judging by the last time I saw you, I thought you two would be stuck at the hip."

"You seem like you're in a good mood," Erik commented, avoiding the question.

"I guess I am." Kevin allowed. "But you didn't answer."

Erik glowered at the vampire before replying, "I don't know. We…I mean, I…I mean, she…"

"When you feel like answering, please, tell me." Kevin rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, you two got into some huge fight, and now she's angry with you."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Basically."

"Well, don't worry about it. The princess needs to blow off steam once in a while. She's done it at me plenty of times, but she always gets over herself."

"I'm not sure if she will," Erik whispered. "She was furious."

The vampire snorted. "What did you do, kill someone in front of her?"

Erik didn't respond. Kevin's dark blue eyes widened.

"You're joking! You actually _killed_ someone in front of her? Even _I_ know better than that, and I have to kill at least one person every two weeks just to survive!"

"Good for you!" Erik snapped.

Kevin shook his head. "Well, clearly you're going to have to simply wait until she cools off. That could take a while, though. If you try talking to her too soon, it'll only make things worse."

"Now you tell me," Erik muttered.

Before Kevin could reply, a black ball of fluff that was Starlight came out of nowhere and smacked him on the head. The vampire jerked away.

"What the…" he glared at the tiny kitten. "What, Starlight?"

Starlight jumped up and down and meowed frantically.

"What's she saying?" Erik asked.

"I don't know!" Kevin snarled. "I don't speak cat!"

"Great…"

The cat mewed loudly and more urgently.

"What is it, Starlight?" Kevin asked, exasperated. "Does it have something to do with the princess?"

To Erik's surprise, Starlight nodded. He leaned forward eagerly. "What about her?"

Starlight sat back on her hind legs and, raising her head up, she ran a claw across her neck.

"She's _dead!" _Erik shrieked, jumping up.

Starlight shook her head.

"She killed someone?" Kevin asked cautiously.

Again, Starlight shook her head.

The vampire took a deep, but unnecessary, breath. "Is this like Emily?"

To both men's horror, Starlight nodded and meowed.

This time, Kevin leapt up. "Where was she, Starlight?"

Her tail held high, Starlight turned and scampered out the door, the two men following.

-

The kitten lead them down the streets of Paris, people staring at the masked man in astonishment, and into the forest Erik remembered where Amme had slept. They went deeper and deeper until, at last, Kevin threw out his arm.

"What's that?"

Erik craned his neck. He couldn't see anything except trees. "What's what?"

"That," the vampire pointed. "That black shape there."

The Phantom's eyes strained, but he still didn't see it. Slowly, carefully, he stepped around Kevin's arm and towards whatever it was he wasn't seeing.

About ten feet, and he was able to make out the black shape. Another ten, and he recognized it as the body of a dead horse.

Starlight let out a mewl and jumped onto Fate's body, crying cat tears.

"She killed a lot of people," Erik observed, looking at the dead humans in the small clearing. Then, he realized Kevin was hanging back. "What's wrong?"

Something flashed in the vampire's dark blue eyes, and he twitched slightly. "There's…a lot of blood," he said finally.

"I can see that," Erik replied, slightly sarcastically.

"Human blood."

"I can see that, too." He rolled his eyes. "And you don't want to go near it because…?"

Kevin took a step back. "I haven't hunted in two weeks. I don't want to lose control."

"I don't want you too, either." Erik examined one body with a crushed skull. The tree next to it had a dent, so he assumed it had been crushed against that. "These people are already dead. I don't think they'll mind too much if you drink their blood."

Kevin's mouth twitched upward, and he walked slowly forward.

"They knocked her out over here," the Phantom said, nodding towards a small pool of blood that sparkled blue. "And dragged her over here." He stopped, a sudden lump in his throat as the situation sunk in. "How do you know these are the same people who…took Emily?"

Kevin dropped one of the bodies and wiped his mouth. "Well, none of these people were involved with Emily capture. All the scents are different." He smelled the air carefully. "Expect one. But it's not a human scent. I guessing it's the person who's responsible for all the murders."

Erik stepped back, and stared hard at the vampire. "How many murders have there been?"

"Let's see…you know Emily's. And there was their mother, Mary. She had been poisoned as well." Kevin bit his lip, thinking. "Emily's fiancée, Liam, was slashed with a dagger about…thirteen times? Mary's sister, Verya, had been burnt to death. Her husband, Limdur, and their infant daughter, Maerwen, had both been drowned. Mary's brother, Aurelius, was strangled. Their father, Istuion, was stabbed, and their mother, Sadronniel, was beheaded."

Erik's eyes widened in horror as the list continued.

"Calanon, Istuion's brother, was hung. His wife, Cara, was eaten by dragons. Their son and daughter, Rindell and Sanya, were both crushed by rocks. Rindell's wife, Nieriel, was poisoned, like Emily, and their daughter, Melda, has never been found." He paused. "Should I continue?"

Wordlessly, Erik shook his head.

"Oh, one more thing," Kevin sighed, and his hands tightened into fists. "All the women's bodies that've been found show evidence of rape. And that's what will happen to Amme."

Erik's head jerked up. "What? You mean, you're not going to _do_ anything?"

"What's there to do?" Kevin threw his arms to the air. "Weren't you listening to my list? Don't you think we did _everything_ we could for them? But they all were either found dead or dying, beyond any healing by even the most powerful sorcerer! And there were a lot more than one vampire, one human, and one cat looking! Amme's dead, and there's nothing we can do!"

"She's not dead, yet!" Erik whispered fiercely. "Not if I have a say."

"You may not get one," Kevin replied sadly.


	21. Warrior Princess

Kevin would like to say, _"Tenese jolis vojvempi, hisole hikes tes." _Long pause…_"Te kesin jonli si; kese nilonis rijol." _Which translates to "You are a mere mortal, therefore I ignore you. And I didn't abandon her. I was being realistic."

Yes, Kevin is in denial. Don't tell him I said that.

-

The burning sun hadn't cooled into night yet, even though it was well past ten afternoon. Few people were out on the streets, but the ones who were there found it odd to see two men covered in black cloaks coming out of a fairly regular looking house. The men kept glancing over their shoulders, as if they were afraid of being followed.

One lone man stood in a small, dingy room on the top floor, peeking out the window. The black curtains made it possible for him to see without being seen.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The man turned. Another man, a smaller, stouter one, trembled as he looked at the mismatched eyes.

"Um, you-you told u-us to tell y-y-y-you when the-the-the g-girl w-w-wakes up…" he stammered. "And-and-and…and I…"

"That's enough," the other interrupted before sweeping out of the room.

The one left behind slumped to the ground, absolutely terrified of his encounter, however brief, of his frightening employer.

-

Amme woke up cold, stiff, and in pain. Frowning, she tested her limbs carefully, and found, to her semi-delight, she could stand without too much agony. That is, it wasn't completely unbearable. Her head throbbed, and her legs shook under her weight, and she wasn't able to breathe very well.

She tried her lungs again, and decided it had something to do with the air; it just didn't seem as clean down here.

Down here? Where was she? It wasn't a place she had ever been before, and she couldn't remember going there.

Was she dead? Amme briefly considered that, but just as briefly discarded it. It hurt too much for her to be dead.

But then where _was_ she? Looking around, she realized there was a door hidden in the stonewalls. Wincing slightly, she went to open it but it was locked.

Wasn't that just typical?

Amme, cussing silently, turned around and limped back to the center, trying to think of the best way to escape. She rotated slowly on the spot; then looked up at the low ceiling only three inches above her head.

Suddenly, the door flew open and hit the wall with a bang. Standing in the entrance was a tall, unearthly pale man. His dark brown hair was cut short enough to see the mismatched eyes: one black with a red pupil, and one red with a black pupil.

Amme swallowed. The man looked familiar; she simply couldn't remember where she had seen him.

He closed the door tightly, and strolled farther into the room. "So, Amme Eledhwen. You're awake, now."

"That's stating the obvious." Amme snapped. "Who are you, and how do you know my name? And how the _hell_ did I get here?!"

He smiled coldly. "You don't remember me, Amme Eledhwen? We've met twice before."

"I don't think so!"

"Well, we have. Trust me."

"That'll be the day!" She snarled. "Who are you?!"

He yawned. "I don't feel like telling you. Now…"

"I don't care what you _feel like _doing! Tell me your name _right now!"_

"No," He replied simply.

Amme rarely brought her rank into conversations, but it seemed like a good time. "As princess and the heir to the throne of Ahsela, I…"

"That doesn't mean anything here, Amme Eledhwen." He cut off. "I'm in control now, so you will do what I say. And right now, I want you to stop asking what my name is, because you won't find out anyways. Save your breath while you still have it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amme asked brusquely.

The man tilted his head to the side and back again. "What do you think it means?"

"I've been in more dangerous situations than _this."_ She replied nonchalantly.

"I think not, Amme Eledhwen."

"Why do you keep using my first _and_ last name? Oh, wait, you're not going to tell me, are you, so I'm just wasting my breath. Am I right? Of course I'm right."

He rolled his sinister eyes. "You act the same way as your mother did when she was frightened. She got sarcastic and rude too."

"My mother…I do n…I…how do you know…" Amme's brown eyes widened as something clicked in her mind and her confusion vanished. "You bloody bastard!"

"Figured it out, have we?" He asked pleasantly. "It took you long enough."

"I'll kill you!" She shrieked, on the verge of losing control. "I swear, I will _kill_ you!"

"Now, now, Amme. Your dear, departed mother wouldn't want that, now would she?"

"I think she'd understand," Amme hissed, trembling with rage.

"I daresay, you're right." He shrugged. "Not that it matters. You won't leave here alive, anyways. I'd do it now, but I have an appointment to be somewhere, so you'll die in…well, you'll be poisoned in exactly two hours. How long it'll last depends on you and how strong you are."

Amme launched herself at him, but she had broken one of the most critical rules of fighting her mentor, Sophia, had taught her: never attack in anger.

The man laughed and, using magic, forced her back against the wall. Amme, as usual, fought it, but magic had never been her strongest point.

"Your father sent you here to keep you away from me, didn't he?" The man asked, watching Amme struggle. "It was pointless; I'm excellent at tracking. Of hunting; whichever you prefer. I considered killing him first, but now I'm glad I found you first. This is more entertaining than any of the others."

"Bastard!" She screamed. "You…you…evil…foul…"

"Yes, much more entertaining." He raised his eyebrows, and smiled. "You know, I've been watching you for several weeks now—trying to find the best moment to abduct you, that sort of thing—and I took the liberty of checking the minds of some of the people you know here. Would you like to know a few? Like that brainless blond boy, Joshua Eddison. I don't know how you deluded yourself into thinking he loves you, but…"

"I trust him more than you, bastard!"

"Now, I think you've made your opinion of me quite clear, Amme. But that Christine de Chagny girl…I might have taken her afterwards, but she's human. And humans are never any fun, haven't you noticed?"

Amme struggled against her invisible bonds, glaring daggers at her captor.

"There is _one_ thing I'm curious about, though." He sounded like he was admitting a humiliating weakness. "In the beginning, you used to just…disappear. I couldn't sense you were with anyone, either. But after a while, you started going to some forest at night. But where were you before? You hadn't left the theatre, but…"

She looked at him coldly. "I don't feel like answering that. And there's nothing you can threaten me with. Don't you have an 'appointment' to go to?"

He growled, but left. Once he was gone, the magic binding Amme to the wall disappeared as well. Amme slumped to the ground, trying to think around the low buzzing noise in her mind.

-

"We don't have much time. We need a plan. Now."

Kevin glanced at the Phantom. They had been discussing that for what seemed like forever. Starlight had gotten so discouraged, so went to guard over Fate's body, keep crows from eating it, that sort of thing. "And what, pray tell, do you suggest we do?"

"What did you try before?"

"Why does that matter? They didn't work!"

"Yes!" Erik snapped impatiently. "So we can avoid doing them!"

"We aren't going to find her."

"That doesn't mean we can't try!"

"We can try," Kevin sighed. "But we won't succeed."

"Why must you be so pessimistic?"

"I'm just telling the truth!"

"Fine," Erik said irritably. "You can believe that if you want. But I'm going to find Amme, with or without you."

"And, once again, what do you suggest we do?"

"Well, tracking won't work. They bring her onto the streets, and their footprints get confused with others. Can you…smell them out?"

"Like a dog?" Kevin asked, glaring. "Anyways, all the human scents mask hers. I won't be able to tell one from another."

"Well, that's just great," Erik said disgustedly. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, thinking hard. "People would have noticed, though."

"Why don't you ask them?" Kevin snapped.

Erik opened his eyes long enough to glower at the vampire before closing them again. "I'm not exactly the most popular person in France, you know. There is a price on my head, after all."

"There is?" Kevin looked interested. "How much?"

"Never mind!" He sighed and reopened his eyes. "What if…well, while Amme was getting…threatened by Erland…" Kevin hissed at the name, but Erik ignored him. "By Erland, she sent some sort of message, for lack of a better term. Do you think one of us could try something like that? And maybe she could sent one back telling us about where she is."

"First of all, there's no guarantee that she actually _knows_ where she is. Second, we tried something like it before, only there was some sort of…wall blocking Emily's mind from us. And not the normal wall elf's use to shield their minds—it wasn't elf magic."

"What did you try?"

"We," Kevin frowned, thinking. "We sent a sort of…wave signal, I guess. It's rather difficult to explain, but minds are very distinctive. If the wave could pick up on that elf, or vampire, or human, than the person casting it could follow it to the location of that mind."

"Do you think that's how they found Amme?"

"Maybe. It can't cover much distance, though. Usually within a mile or two. Three if the castor is very good, or knows the mind very well."

Erik thought for a moment. "I'm going to try it."

"Don't be ridiculous, human!" Kevin snapped. "If an elf can't break through that shield, there's no way a _human_ could no it!"

"Nevertheless," Erik replied stubbornly, his eyes glowing slightly. "I'm going to try."

-

Time was running out. Amme had exactly one hour and a half before she would be poisoned. If she wanted to survive to see her next birthday, she'd have to think up a plan quick. Not that she had celebrated her birthdays since her fifteenth one, but that was beside the point.

She tested the door again, even though she knew well it was still locked. Leaning down, she ran a slim finger along the keyhole in the handle. She needed a lock pick.

Amme started feeling around for something, anything, long and thin and hard. Something she could use. Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing any hairpins, and there was nothing in the cell except cold stone.

That was when Amme realized she was not only close to losing her life, she was also close to losing her control. But then again, with only ninety minutes to live, what difference would it make?

Shrieking like the banshee she had met once before, Amme curled her hand into a fist and punched the door as hard as she could. It hurt like hell, but there was a nice dent in the stone for her pain. Winding up, she hit and kicked the door again and again and again until the dent grew to be twice as large as her head.

That was when a guard burst into the room. "What the _hell_ are you doing?!"

Amme's fist collided with his skull, and he flew to hit the stonewall, out cold.

"If you think I'm going to sit around and wait for you kill me, think again," She muttered as she took all his weapons. The sword was a little lighter than she preferred, but then, beggars can't be choosers.

"What was that noise?" Came a voice outside.

Amme stepped into the doorway and swung the stolen sword into a defensive position. As soon as the new guard reached her, she twirled it around her wrist several times before stabbing him in the heart.

-

"I'm telling you again, human," Kevin snapped. "It's never going to work!"

Erik ignored him. Instead, he concentrated on remembering exactly what Amme's mind was like: the vastness of it, waiting to be filled by memories much sharper than any human's, the wild and untamable feeling it gave, like a beautiful, but wild animal. It actually reminding Erik quite a lot of a tiger, or a panther. He allowed himself to feel every single creatures mind in as far a distance as he could manage. Then, vaguely, he felt something very similar to Amme's mind in a house not too far from their current location.

His dark eyes opened. "I know where she is!"

-

So, Amme was out of the cell, but now she had to find a way out of the house. At least she didn't feel like she was on a time limit anymore; she could take as long as need be, though, of course, sooner was better than later. She had stolen two more swords and dumped the first one—the other two were much better, heavier, more suited to her strength. But even those two were pushing it a little—humans were pretty pathetic.

Sneaking around alone in an unfamiliar house full of people wanting to kill you with two poorly-made weapons was not Amme's ideal choice for how to spend her day, but then again, she never _asked_ to be in that situation. Luckily for her, she knew the man in charge of all this was out, or at least busy.

She dodged two more men coming at her, one with another pathetic sword, the other with a battle-ax of all things. Amme twisted herself around with inhuman speed before stabbing the swordsman in the stomach. The axman bellowed and swung his weapon at Amme furiously. Amme neatly ducked it, bringing one sword around to catch the ax by the handle. The man tried to free it, but she jerked it out of his hands. The man bellowed again, and made a wild attempt to escape. Amme threw one of her blades, which buried itself deep between the man's shoulder blades. The man squealed, and dropped just as three more men came sprinting across the hallway to help.

Amme sighed, and tossed her leftover sword into her left hand. With her free hand, she grabbed the dead man's ax and threw it. Like the sword, it hit its target dead-on. Blood squirted from the man's chest as he fell and got trampled by his companions.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amme say two more pointing guns straight at her head. She let out another sigh, this time mixed with a swear word or two. Would this day never end?

Before she got the chance to deal with the gunmen, she felt a strange prickling feeling in her mind, as if someone was digging in it. She frowned, and stepped behind a swordsman as one of the gunmen shot, trying to block it out. The swordsman went down, but the feeling only intensified, as if the person was getting closer to her.


	22. Counterattack

"You're sure she's here? You're one hundred percent sure?"

The Phantom didn't answer. Instead, he closely examined the ordinary-looking house, looking for a back entrance or an unlocked window.

Kevin shifted uncomfortably behind the tall trees in the backyard garden. "You do realize I can't go in there unless a door or window is actually _opened_, not just unlocked."

That broke Erik's concentration. _"What?"_

"It's one of the rules. For vampires, you see."

"And you're mentioning this _now?"_

Kevin frowned, but didn't respond. From his face, Erik had just insulted him.

"Maybe I _should_ have left you behind," he muttered.

The vampire's expression turned furious. But before he could make a devastating retort, Erik pointed at a window on the second floor.

"That would be our best bet."

"Why, pray tell?" Kevin asked, miffed that he didn't get the chance to say his retort. He filled it away for later use.

"Trust me. I'm a genius."

Once again, Kevin had a retort all formed and ready to use, but Erik had already darted forward, swinging himself onto the vines on the side of the house. Kevin was forced to store _that_ retort away as well, and followed the Phantom up the house.

Slowly, carefully, Erik pushed the already slightly opened window. It creaked loudly and stuck. Erik froze. Looking down, he asked Kevin, "Do have any oil?"

Kevin glared up at him. "Why would I bring oil? I didn't think we'd make it this far!"

"I told you to!" Erik snapped back. "Maybe you should have listened to me!"

"Why would I listen to a _human?"_

"I got us this far, haven't I?" He turned back to the window. "This thing could wake up the entire house. No point in trying to be secretive with this."

"We could always go in through another window," Kevin hissed.

"There're people in those rooms!" Erik snapped.

"Good! I need to kill a few of them." Kevin's voice had risen slightly.

Fury shone plain and clear on the Phantom's face, but instead of taking it out on the vampire, he put all his strength into his shoulder and thrust it into the window. It came off its hinges, and went flying through the room, shattering on the opposite wall.

"So much for being secretive," Kevin muttered.

All at once there were screams and shouts from down below. Erik managed to hear a few as he sprang into the dark room.

"What was that?"

"Was that her?"

"She's escaping from the second floor!"

Erik turned to face the vampire, who was still hanging out the window. "Do you need an invitation to enter?"

Kevin ignored that. Leaping lightly in, he whispered, "She's not here."

Erik frowned. "What do you mean? She was…" he checked her "mind position" and found it outside the house, running away. "Oh…_shit."_

Just then, the door burst open.

-

Amme had reached the forest in only two minutes. She dropped to the floor, panting—she had over-exerted herself, not for the first time. Curling in a ball, she examined herself, finding where the deepest gash was. It was on her right forearm, and she started to lick it—some of Starlight's cat characteristics had rubbed off on her.

That same kitten, who was such a bad influence on Amme, leapt out of the forest, and landed on her shoulder.

_You're back!_ She meowed happily. _You're all right!_

"Yes, Starlight," Amme smiled. "I'm back and I'm all right."

_Where are the men?_ Starlight asked curiously.

Amme frowned. "What men?"

_Kevin. And that Phantom man. They went to find you, and…_ Starlight's eyes bulged._ Oh, no._

Amme's mouth dropped open. "You mean…they went…they…Kevin…Phantom…me…"

_Yes._

"Oh…_shit."_

Without another word, Amme turned and sprinted back towards the house.

-

"Drop your weapon!"

Erik, feeling it was best not to argue when a dozen guns were trained on your head, let his sword fall and rose from his crouch. Behind him, he sensed Kevin slip back outside completely unnoticed by any of the armed men in front of them.

A tall man, with short brown hair and mismatched eyes strolled to the front. "Well, well. What do we have here?" He kicked the dropped sword out of Erik's reach. "How in the world did this human get in here?" Glancing out the window, he added, "Alone. Apparently, at least. Who left this window opened?"

No one seemed eager to take credit for the mistake.

"Never mind. I'll find out later." He turned back to Erik. "You. Human. Who are you?"

Erik raised an eyebrow, and a mocking sneer came to his lips. "Why would I tell you that?"

"Because I just have to give the order, and every single man here will shoot you."

"That would succeed in killing me," Erik admitted. "But it wouldn't tell you what you want to know, now would it?"

The man's mouth tightened. Finally, he said, "True enough. But I can torture the information out of you, can't I?"

"I sincerely doubt that."

The man tilted his head, studying the Phantom closely. "You're brave, human. I'll give you that, but that's all you'll get. Clearly, you don't know who you're dealing with."

"Clearly not. Perhaps you should educate me. Whom am I dealing with?"

The man deliberated. Then he spoke again, "My name, if it helps you any, is Jonathan Drabek. And yours is?"

Erik smirked, but didn't answer.

Jonathan started to twitch. "What are you doing here?"

Erik considered his answer, and then realized he wanted to see Jonathan's response when presented with the truth. "I was looking for someone. Perhaps you've seen her."

Jonathan froze momentarily. "Perhaps. Who is she?"

Now Erik was starting to get bored with the conversation. "Amme Eledhwen. And I know you had her, and I know she escaped. I also know you were intending on killing her, so it's lucky for you she _did_ escape. Otherwise it would have been worse for you. That's all. Au revoir, Monsieur."

"Not so fast, human." Jonathan grabbed Erik's wrist. His skin was as burning hot as Erik's was ice cold. "Since I can't kill her, you'll have to do for now."

And that's when everything went black.

-

Amme glared daggers at the house she had hoped never again to set eyes on. "This is just fabulous, isn't it?"

"What is?"

She turned, recognizing the voice. "Kevin?"

The blue-eyed vampire grinned at her. "_Selise!_ I never thought I'd see you again!"

Amme squealed, and ran forward to embrace him. When they broke apart, Kevin looking very uncomfortable, she said, "How many times do I have to ask you to call me _Amme?"_

"Infinitely."

She laughed. And then, remember what Starlight said, she sobered up quickly. "Where's the Phantom? Is he still with you?"

Kevin looked even more uncomfortable. "Um…no. We, well, sort of got caught. I got out, but…I don't know about him."

"Double shit," Amme muttered. Louder, she said, "Well, I suppose I'll have to go back in there."

"What?" Kevin looked horrified. "No. Don't be ridiculous, _Selise._ _I'll_ go in; _you_ stay here."

"I got him in the situation, I'll get him out. But don't worry, you can come too, Kev."

"Don't _call_ me that!" Kevin insisted, but not as forcefully as he usually might have.

The elf grinned, before making a dash to the backyard. With a sinking feeling of déjà vu, Kevin followed.

-

Erik awoke in a small, brightly lit room. _Too_ bloody brightly lit, too. And way, way, _way_ too small. His head crashed against the ceiling when he tried to stand.

Rubbing the sore part of his head, he crawled over to the almost completely hidden door. Not to his surprise, it was locked, but Erik had not been called the trap-door lover back in Persia for nothing. Studying it, he realized the lock wasn't anything really unusual; he had dealt with more complicated ones before. It only took a few seconds concentration, and the door opened. And this time, it didn't make any noise while doing so. Smirking very slightly, Erik slipped out.

The door had led to a hallway that was only slightly less bright than the room. Erik blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes to the light.

After a while, he realized something was wrong. Why was no one here? Logically, there should have been several people making sure he didn't escape. That's what Erik would have done with Christine after he kidnapped her, only there was no one he could use like that. Not to mention, he never needed to do anything like that.

Self-flattery aside, Erik returned to figuring out why the hall was so empty. Maybe that Jonathan thought that because he was human, Erik wouldn't be able to escape. That might have been possible, but Jonathan Drabek didn't strike him as the careless type. There was something more.

He wondered while he walked down the hall toward a door at the end. Carefully, he opened it, making sure it didn't squeak the tiniest bit. And then the answer to his question hit him like a ton of bricks.

A dull roar reached him. At first, it didn't make any sense, but then it turned into several different noises all rolled into one. The loudest was the screams of men, dozens of them. Some were in agony, others in fear. But the most prominent came from one man, and it was one of pure fury.

Underneath the screams, Erik was able to distinguish the sound of metal clanging and scraping against more metal. It made the hair on his neck stand on end.

Under that, Erik was barely able to hear a low hissing noise, strangely similar to a cat. He was able to recognize the hisser.

_Not her,_ he thought to himself. _No, she was suppose to be gone!_

Absolutely horrified, he threw himself towards the noise, praying, for the first time, that he wasn't too late.

-

Amme had had the choice to make a quiet entrance and an undetected rescue, but she had ruled both out. These people had killed almost all of her family, so she simply wanted to kill a few of them in return. Kevin had been all up for it, but then, Kevin was almost always up for anything that involved him killing humans. Amme frequently wondered how she was able to be friends with him.

Once she reached the back door, she took out Kevin's sword, which he and lent to her and was much better suited to her strength then the stolen ones—Kevin fully intended on using his fangs. Anyways, she took the sword and scraped it down the door's hinges. It made a horrible screeching sound, which would have undoubtedly been heard by a majority of the house. The hinges gave way, and the door started to fall on top of her. Grabbing it before it crushed her, Amme threw it over her head, where it shattered into the tree behind her.

"Nice one," Kevin said appreciatively.

Amme spared him a grin before twirling the sword into position. "Here they come."

Footsteps thundered towards them. Kevin parted his lips in a sneer, exposing his long fangs. Almost instantaneously, they both settled down into a crouch, waiting.

-

When Erik reached the battle, it was already in full swing. About fourteen men were dead, from either Amme's blade or Kevin's teeth. Blood splattered everywhere, inside the room and out in the garden. Erik could tell the police would be on their way soon, but then he was never very impressed with the Paris police. And if he, Amme, and Kevin could kill all the men and get away before they came, no one would ever know they were there; the high fence around the garden blocked it from the outside world. He could hear the screams of the neighbors mixed in with the two-dozen men still alive and fighting.

A pale shape caught his eye. Kevin, without a single drop of blood on him, flitted around the battle, breaking men's bones left and right. But the scariest part was how little control the vampire seemed to still possess. In a few moments, Erik could tell, he would have to start drinking the blood pouring from the dead and living alike.

The man, Jonathan Drabek, was partly hidden behind the tree, below which was a shattered door. He was screaming his head off, though the words were not comprehensible. It seemed to be only a never-ending howl of words and syllables. He was less in control of himself than Kevin was.

And then Erik saw Amme.

She was darting around even faster than Kevin. In her eyes, there was only a fierce determination as she blocked, dodged, and stabbed. There were a number of cuts and gashes scattered along her body, but none of them seemed to affect her in the slightest. And the bloodstains on her black dress seemed to be more from her victims than from her.

Erik didn't register how she was able to have kept herself alive for so long. He didn't think she probably didn't need much help at the moment. All he could think of was the man behind her, raising a long broadsword.

And Erik leapt into the battle.

-

Kevin was not able to make any comments before this chapter for obvious reasons, once I explain them. He was getting rather violent, you see, so I had no choice but to tie him to a chair in my room and duck tape his mouth shut. Amme is currently trying to reason with him, which is not going well because a certain phantom I could mention keeps laughing and mocking the poor vampire.  
If you listen really closely, you can just make out muffled screams.


	23. Sorcerer

Once the battle had begun, Amme knew for a fact that neither side would give up until the other surrendered or was completely destroyed. Amme and Kevin had both fought together for a long enough period of time for Amme to know they were more likely to be the victors than the humans. And she also knew neither of them would leave any of the humans alive.

And so Amme fought, harder than she had in a long time. She wasn't worried about hurting Kevin; vampire skin was much harder than humans and was also self-healing. Perhaps an unfair advantage, but then, she wasn't complaining. It wasn't until she had beheaded her ninth kill when she was aware someone else she knew was in the battle.

"Amme Eledhwen, you hypocrite!"

Amme froze, and turned. First she saw one of the enemies sliding to the ground, blood pouring from his wound. Behind him, the Phantom stood, a wide grin on his face. "And you say _I'm_ a murderer! What do you think _you're_ doing then, girl?"

"This isn't murder!" Amme defended herself as she stabbed another man coming at her with an unloaded pistol. "They tried to kill me first!"

"True." He eyed her curiously as she ran threw an eleventh man.

Amme brushed her hair away from her face and glared at him. "What?"

"You know, you're quite lovely when you're killing people."

"That's disgusting."

He shrugged. A man armed with two daggers decided to come his way, so their conversation was put on hold while the Phantom dodged him.

"So," He said, once he returned, twirling the daggers around his hands and wrists. "You came to save me, did you?"

"Only because I felt guilty," Amme replied shortly.

"Ouch! That hurts." The Phantom threw a dagger at an oncoming man. "Why did Kevin come, then? He seems incapable of guilty feelings."

Kevin had just given into his thirst. The rest should be self-explanatory.

"Kevin came because he didn't want me going alone!" Amme snapped, blocking a sword before slicing open the man's belly.

"How nice. But I still want to talk to you about…" he paused as another man forced him and Amme to separate for a while.

"Talk about you coming back!" He finished when he found her again.

Amme snorted as she scampered around another man. "You picked an odd time to have _this_ conversation!"

"Just give me an answer!"

Once again, their conversation was interrupted. This time, it looked like it would be for quite a while. Jonathan Drabek had gotten his control back.

"Amme Eledhwen!" He shrieked. "I will _kill_ you! Even if it's the last thing I ever do!"

Only slightly back in control, though.

Erik did a quick head count. There were only seven more men on the other side left alive, not counting the fuming man with the mismatched eyes still hiding in the tree. Kevin was out of the battle, too busy with all the blood around him, his eyes glowing senselessly. That gave him, Erik, four and Amme four.

Amme just slit the throat of one of the men she was fighting. Okay, that made gave Erik four and Amme three.

As if there had been an unspoken command, the remaining men drew back and formed a loose circle, with Amme and Erik in the center. Erik took advantage of the pause to grab a sword from the ground. Amme lowered hers slightly, but only slightly.

"It might very well be the last thing you do," she said calmly, as if madmen talked about killing her everyday. "But then, you might die before I do." Her sword made small circles in the air as she spoke.

"I don't care what it takes," He breathed. "I _will_ finish you!" And with that, he conjured up a ball of eerie yellow-green fire and threw it at Amme.

Erik's reaction was immediate. Not wanting to think of the woman he loved getting burnt to a crisp before his eyes, he held out his hands and forced his magic out into the air. A wide, black shield blossomed in front of the elf just in time. The fire hit it, and was instantly smothered as the black surrounded it on all sides.

Jonathan's eyes widened, and he turned slowly to face Erik. "That wasn't human magic," he muttered as he moved. "What are you?" He barked at the Phantom.

"Me."

"That's a pathetic answer," Amme whispered to him before raising her voice. "He's human all the way."

"No human has magic like that!" Jonathan screamed.

"Well, then he's a special human," She replied pleasantly. "But human through and through."

"That sounds like an insult, coming from you," Erik murmured to her. She grinned, but didn't respond.

Jonathan's eyes were bulging at that point. "I don't care! I'll kill you the same!"

"You were the one who wanted to know," Erik started to say, but more yellow-green fire appeared and launched itself at him.

This time, Erik shot some magic into his borrowed sword. Holding it like a baseball bat, he swung it, hitting the fire dead on. The fire changed directions, and headed back towards its creator, singeing Amme's hair slightly along the way. Jonathan screamed, but the fire consumed him before he could react anymore. He screamed again, but Erik had the strangest sense the fire wouldn't kill him; it would take much more than that.

And, indeed, the fire slowly was put out, and Jonathan stood there. His hair and eyebrows were both gone, but otherwise, he was completely unharmed. Pointing a shaking finger at Erik, he said, "Kill him."

All six of the men leapt on Erik at once. Amme managed to behead one before Jonathan started attacking her with magic again, forcing all her attention to him.

The Phantom retreated, holding the sword aloft in front of him. Forcing more magic into it at the same time as he swung it towards an oncoming man. The point barely grazed him, but enough magic got into him to make him explode. The remaining four men screamed as bits of blood and flesh got into their eyes, blinding them. Erik jumped forward and stabbed another, causing him to ignite from the inside out. The men, now down to three, drew back, but not quickly enough. Erik, who was starting to enjoy himself, set one more blast of magic at them, consuming all three at the same time. Whatever skill their master possessed to keep himself alive inside fire, those three certainly did not have. The black fire quickly destroyed each of them.

Erik wiped sweat from his forehead, and glanced around. Kevin was sitting by a pile of dead, drained bodies, looking rather confused. Erik bit back a desire to laugh, and turned to look at Amme.

She and Jonathan were both fighting their hardest, and she was most definitely losing. Excellent swordswoman she might have been, good sorceress she clearly was not. She was dodging spell after spell that Jonathan threw at her; the ground where they hit was black and burnt. Amme's weapons had been discarded and forgotten. Erik could see her feeble attempts to call up her own light blue magic, but her energy was rapidly waning.

Erik dropped his sword. Gathering all his energy and turning it into magic, he, once again, made his own fire and threw it with all his remaining strength at Jonathan. The last thing he was aware of was his magic fire hitting Jonathan square in the chest.

And then he collapsed and passed out on the ground, completely overspent.

-

Erik came to his senses after what seemed like a short time after his fainting. He knew he was awake, but he didn't open his eyes. He felt cold, but not uncomfortably so. The ground underneath him was hard, and in a few places, it dug into his skin. And then he was aware of a something cool and wet dripping onto his forehead. Frowning slightly, he opened his eyes.

The first thing that came to his attention was his mask, which was off. Before he could do any more than sit up and open his mouth, however, a pale, warm hand forced him back down. His eyes followed the hand to an arm, and then a shoulder. Finally, he realized Amme was sitting cross-legged next to him; a damp piece of cloth was in her other hand.

"You're heavy," She informed him, her chocolate eyes alive with laughter. "I needed Kevin to help me bring you here."

Erik's mouth opened even wider. Amme giggled.

"It wasn't that bad. Kevin only needed to help me because I was so tired."

"That's a relief," He said under his breath. She giggled again. "Where's Kevin now?"

She nodded towards a tree where a pale figure was lying underneath. "He's asleep."

"Ah." Erik sat back up. "So…what happened?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I was fighting…that man. You know, the one…"

"Jonathan," He interrupted. "His name was Jonathan Drabek."

"Really? Well, anyways, I was fighting him, and I was losing horribly. Then suddenly, he went…black. I mean, I couldn't see him anymore. It looked like black fire. And then he was gone." Amme shrugged. "And that's what happened."

"'And then he was gone?'" Erik repeated in disbelief. "Just like that?"

"Uh-huh."

Their eyes met for a while. Then Amme blushed, and quickly looked away. Erik fingered his sword, which he just realized was lying next to him.

"So," Amme started. "Are you, um, going to, well, stay? For Fate's funeral," she added hurriedly.

"Oh," dimly, he remembered the horse's body in the small clearing. "Of course. Of course I will."

"Thanks." Amme's smile was faint, and a few tears brimmed over and fell down her cheeks.

"Amme!" Erik reached out and gently wiped the tears away. "It'll be fine. Everything's going to be fine."

"I know," Amme sobbed softly. "It's just…Fate, Starlight, and I have been through a lot together. And it seems…just so _wrong_ that one of us is gone! I knew she would die eventually, but still…I didn't think it would happen…so _soon._"

Erik listened to her in silence, stroking her hair comfortingly. When she finished, he said, "Can I…may I see her?"

Amme nodded. "She's over there."

The Phantom walked slowly over to the place where the black horse lay. He knelt down, thinking hard. He had already proven he could kill very well with magic. Could he heal? Could he bring things to live? Fate had been dead for about a day. Would that make any difference?

Gritting his teeth together, he came to one conclusion: he had to do something, if only to make Amme happy.

He placed one hand on the horse's forehead, and, once again, forced all his magic out, this time for a completely different purpose.

Amme sprung forward. "Don't! You'll kill yourself!" But it was too late: the magic was already gone.

Erik immediately felt this was a mistake. His head swam and his arms trembled. His breath came out in gasps, shallow and weak. But this time, he didn't collapse. He was strong enough to keep his eyes wide open and his brain working.

And strong enough to make Fate raise her head very slightly and open her eyes.

Amme sank down next to him, her hand raised out as if to pat the horse, as if to check if she was real. "Fate?"

Fate bobbed her head and whinnied.

"Fate!" Amme threw her arms around the horse, tears falling. "You're alive!"

Erik felt a moment of panic: his healing hadn't made Amme smile, she was crying some more. And then Amme let out a peal of laughter, and he relaxed again. Her laughing was soon joined by Fate's comforting neighs, and Starlight's happy meows. One of Kevin's eyes opened to see what the noise was, and, seeing Fate alive, both of them bugged out in shock.

And Erik watched it all, feeling rather sad. Amme was happy, that much was certain, but she didn't seem to need him anymore. And with that thought, he stood up and left.

-

When Erik returned to the sewers, he found, much to his irritation, that Laetitia had invited at _least_ fifteen mer-people over, and at _least_ six of them were already drunk. And Laetitia was one of them.

"Hey, bossman!" She hiccupped, waving her long tail. "How're things goin'?"

Erik leaned on his oar like a staff. "Perfectly. Why are all these people here?"

"We're partyin'!" Said a tiny, ancient mer-man.

"Really? And who said you could?"

The mer-people shared guilty looks with each other before glancing at Laetitia. Then they all looked away.

"I suspected as much," Erik muttered as Laetitia swayed happily. Then she passed out.

The Phantom tilted his head, staring at the unconscious siren. "That should be your cue to leave before I start to kill."

One by one, the mer-people left. Erik shook his head and climbed into the boat, sailing across the lake towards his "home."

Right while he was in the middle of writing his new opera, Erik had the sudden feeling someone else was down there. Frowning, he stood up and went to investigate.

Before he reached the dock on the other side of the lake, he saw a tall, dark figure standing there, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. On closer examination, he saw it was Amme.

Erik's dark eyes widened as he took in her appearance. She looked fine, excellent, in fact, but he had never seen Amme wear pants except in her memories. They made her legs look even longer and thinner, which matched the rest of her body. The clothing itself was plain—black pants, white, short-sleeved short—but she still managed to look stunning. And happy. Erik could tell she was extremely happy. And that's what made him pause.

"You ran off," she said as a greeting. "Didn't give me a chance to thank you."

"You don't have to," he replied slowly.

"I think I do," she snorted. "For Fate, at least." She straightened up. "But I also want to ask you never to do that again."

"What?" He spluttered. "But-but I thought it made you happy!"

"Oh, yes, it did," she assured him. "I am absolutely thrilled that Fate's alive. But, it was also very dangerous. For you, I mean. You could have killed yourself. The dead are meant to stay dead, and I think it only worked because Fate had been dead for about a day. But don't do it again."

"Am I to understand," the Phantom said carefully. "That you don't want me to bring people back to life, because you're afraid I'll be killed?"

Amme pursed her lips. "Yes, that's sounds about right."

Erik felt himself become happier than he had in a long, long time. Amme saw this, and quickly popped his bubble.

"Because the person you'd be trying to bring back would still be dead. And I hate unnecessary deaths, as you very well know."

"Are you still angry about that?" Erik snapped, miffed she had dashed his hopes so fast.

"Uh-huh,"

"And is there anything I can do so you _won't_ be?"

"Maybe," she allowed. "If you promise never, _ever_ to do something like it again."

"Fine!" He said immediately, and rather harshly. "I promise never, _ever_ to do something like it again. Satisfied?"

"Hmm…" Amme thought a moment, a smile dancing on her lips. "I suppose, if that's the best I can hope for…"

"It is!"

"Well then," she nodded her head in assent. "And, by the way, you forgot this." And she held out his mask.

Erik took it and put it on. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." And then her expression changed. "Just out of curiosity, where is Laetitia?"

"Where…who…what?"

"Laetitia." It looked like Amme was secretly laughing at him. "You know, the mermaid who lives here. I was calling for about…maybe ten minutes, but no one came. I thought she always was here."

Erik inclined his head toward the mermaid, who was laying barely visible by the wall on the far side. "She's out drunk."

Amme's mouth made a tiny "o." "I _thought_ I smelled something like alcohol."

"Yep. Shall we go?"

But the elf wasn't finished yet. "I'll have you know, I've discovered quite a similarity in the men I chose."

"Oh?"

"Yes. No one liked Erland: Emily, Papa, Kevin, Virginia Táralóm. You remember her, don't you? Anyways, no one liked him except me. And with good reason, too. And then with Michel, well, you saw what _he_ was like. And then there's Josh. Well, he's sort of an idiot: I'm not really surprised he's still single. And I've heard more insults than compliments with _you._ Are you seeing the similarity, too?"

"That's insulting," the Phantom informed her. "Let's go."

"But, I need to get Fate. And Starlight."

"I'll get them later. Let's _go!"_

Amme sighed, and allowed herself to be bullied into the boat.

-

Kevin would like me to say that you are allowed to call him "Keving" as long as you don't call him "Kev." He would tell you this himself, but is currently being hung by a rope from my bedroom ceiling for calling someone who shall remain nameless "Pha-Pha." I shall not elaborate.

Anyways, I have an estimated ten more chapters in the story, and they will focus more on Amme and the Phantom's relationship, and them getting together or not getting together, depending on how I feel. Ha ha ha, the power is mine!

I'd say more, but right now I'm being hung by a rope from my bedroom ceiling.


	24. Angel Of Music

Life had once more settled into a steady, pleasant pattern. Once again, everyone was happy except Joshua Eddison and Carlotta.

Amme, being careful not to get _too_ involved with the Phantom, had finally gotten herself a small apartment. She only spent the weekends with him; the rest of the week was her own, in a manner of speaking. The Phantom had tried to forbid any contact with Eddison, but when she refused to respond to his threats, he attempted begging. That worked slightly better, and she promised to try and see Joshua as little as possible.

Starlight stayed with Amme no matter where the elf was so. During the weekends, when Amme was with Erik, the cat was referred to as Amme's "chaperone." Fate stayed with César, and both of them were happy to be reunited.

Two weeks into this arrangement, Amme awoke on a Saturday feeling slightly mischievous. She leapt out of the bed and went to find the Phantom.

No surprise, he was sitting at his organ, scribbling out the notes to his music. Amme skipped up behind him and nudged him playfully.

"Good morning!"

He stopped writing in shock. Then he frowned, but in a teasing way. "Mornings don't happen here, dear. It's always night, remember."

"That's right!" Amme said happily. "I forgot." She propped her head on top of his and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Whatcha writing?"

"Just a new opera." He tapped his quill absentmindedly. "It's coming along fairly well."

"That's good." She watched him write down a few more notes. "What's it about?"

"I'm not sure," the Phantom admitted. "I'm sort of making it up as I go."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Depends. I just started, so it's not such a bad thing now. If I don't know what's going to happen by the entr'acte, then there'll be problems." He scribbled down a few more notes. "There!" A mischievous gleam entered his eyes. "Do you want to sing this for me?"

Amme let go of him and took a half-step back. "Oh! Um, well, don't you…I mean, can I hear you sing it first?"

"It's a soprano part, Amme. I am _not_ a soprano."

"Oh, well, you could still…give me the general…you know, idea…of how it goes. Maybe?"

Erik turned slightly to look her in the eye. "What do you mean, 'the general idea of how it goes'? Just read it!"

"Yeah, well, I…um…okay." Amme looked rather nervous as she took the paper he offered her. She held it at arm's width as if it was a deadly virus that would contaminate her if it got too close. "Alright. Here I go."

Slowly, very slowly, she began singing. But Erik cut her off before she got too far along. "That isn't how it goes, Amme."

"Well, tell me how it goes, then!" Amme snapped, exasperated.

"Amme, just read the notes."

"I'm trying!"

"You're try…" Something clicked in Erik's mind. "You can't read music, can you."

"Oh, is it that obvious?" She snarled. Her mischievous mood had vanished.

"Do you want me to teach you?" The Phantom asked, his hand reaching out to pull her closer.

"Reading music was never something I thought I needed to know," Amme whispered, allowing him to bring her next to him. "And then, when I came here, I simply listened to what other people sang. One person would usually sing my part at one point or another. And I could usually get it after that."

"Well, my love, that's about to change," Erik informed her softly. He found a blank piece of paper. "There are seven letters in the musical alphabet: A through G."

"Why A through G?"

"I don't know. That's just the way it is." He drew five long lines on the paper. "This is called the staff. Where the notes are placed on the staff tells which pitch it is."

"Why is it called a staff?"

Erik threw down his quill. "I don't know! I didn't invent this!"

"Oh. Sorry!" Amme sat down on the floor. "But why are there more than seven places that you can put the notes, if there are only seven letters?"

"Because the alphabet repeats itself."

Amme blinked. "Why doesn't just use the other nineteen letters?"

"Heaven, earth, and hell," Erik moaned. "Teaching Christine was much easier than teaching you."

She raised both her hands in the air. "I'm sorry! I can't help being who I am! Anyways, my teacher, Sophia, had it much worse. She had me when I was a teenager."

"I don't even want to think about it." He shuddered theatrically. "Shall we continue?"

The lessons went on for quite some time. Amme was a fast learner, but she asked more than her fair share of questions, almost half of which the Phantom was unable to answer. Most of them were why questions: why was this called this, why does that do that, and so on.

When Amme began to improve, Erik decided to start teaching her to play the organ. That turned out not to be his best idea.

It was a month after the music lessons had begun, and Erik had just dropped off his new opera. It was before he reached the lake that he heard the unmistakable sound of Amme practicing. He smiled slightly, but then she hit a wrong note and he winced.

"How's she been doing?" He asked Laetitia as he climbed into the boat.

Laetitia shrugged. "She's nearly as good as you." Before Erik could respond, she dived into the water and disappeared just as Amme hit another wrong note.

Erik sighed and started rowing over. Once he made it to the dock, Amme turned around to glare at him.

"Why are you making me do this?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied mildly. "Keep playing."

The elf tossed her head and faced the organ. Once again, music filled the air, only it wasn't exactly beautiful; Amme was thumping on the keys.

"You don't have to press them so hard!"

She lightened up very slightly. Erik went to knee down next to her.

"Still too hard. And straighten up. You need to have good posture while playing."

Amme stopped playing so hard, but her posture stayed the same.

"Come on, Amme. Think of it…like fencing. You need to be in the proper position while sword fighting. The same applies to playing a musical instrument."

Amme stopped playing. "Is playing this organ going to save my life or anyone else's life in any way, shape, or form?"

"It could."

She scowled at him, but straightened her back.

"Keep your feet flat on the floor. Curve your fingers."

She began playing again. Her brow was creased in complete concentration. Erik did not feel like breaking it, but she was starting to slouch again. Slowly, he reached out and pressed against her back gently as a reminder. She immediately straightened.

Watching Amme play was very difficult for Erik. The amount of mistakes she made decreased at a painfully slow rate, and she never seemed to remember about her posture.

"Keep your fingers curved, Amme," He instructed her for what seemed the hundredth time.

Amme banged her hands against the keys. Erik automatically drew back from the horrible sound. Then he got a good look at her face, and a few tears had fallen.

"Amme, what…?"

"I'm never going to get it!" She cried. "Why are you even _trying_ to make me understand? I can't play it, okay? I just can't!"

He reached out and brushed the tears off. "Love, you'll be fine. You just need to concentrate."

"Well, you're not making it any easier!"

Erik frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I just doing better before you came. But then you start distracting me, whispering in my ear, running your hand down my back." A shiver ran through her, as if she was remembering his cold hand touching her.

He stared at her in shock. "I'm sorry! I was just trying to help. Do you want me to do that anymore?"

Amme bit her lip, tapping her slender fingers against her leg. "Maybe…you should just stop trying to teach me how to play the organ. I'm not getting any better; music just isn't one of my gifts."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, putting his arms around her. Amme leaned her head against his shoulder. "You _are_ improving. Just tell me how to help, and I'll do it."

Amme was silent. Then she asked, "Can I hear _you_ play? Just this song, just one time?"

"So you can cheat, like you did with the singing?" He teased. But he lifted her up easily, and sat down on the bench.

"Keep your fingers curved," She reminded him, fighting back a smile.

He smiled back, and began playing.

Amme listened with eyes wide opened. Without thinking, she laid her head in his lap, watching his fingers move as though mesmerized.

"It's supposed to sound like _that?"_ She whispered. "That's beautiful! How do you _do_ that?"

"Practice, love," he murmured. "And lots of it."

The final note rang out, and continued even after he let go of the keys.

Amme closed her mouth, which she realized was still opened.

Erik's smile widened when he saw her expression. "Did you like it?"

"That's more to that than practice. You have a lot of talent."

"I'm glad you think so." He stood up. "Your turn."

"What?" Amme laughed. "Oh, no! Not after listening to _you!_ I'll just embarrass myself even more!"

"You'll never get better if you don't try, Amme."

"Who says I _want_ to get better?" She challenged.

"I do. Start playing."

-

"So, how are things going, Amme?"

Amme glanced up. Christine, who had asked the question, and Meg were both standing over her. Christine looked strangely nervous.

"Fine, thanks. How are things with you?"

"Oh, great!" Meg squealed. "I just meet the _handsomest_ man _ever!_ And he likes me, too!"

"Good for you, Meg," Amme smiled.

"I know, isn't it? He's so…"

"However," Christine interrupted. "Amme, We, I mean, I've been rather worried about you. I know you've been spending…quite some time with the Phantom of the Opera, and…"

"It's not that bad, Christine," Amme said gently. "Well, he _is_ making me play the organ, and he's very picky about it, too. But other than that, nothing bad is happening. He hasn't tried to, well, you know…"

"I don't think you understand me, Amme." Christine replied slowly. "I mean, I'm not so much worried about what's happening _now_ as opposed to what _will_ happen if you continue doing…this. He's a wonderful teacher, but that's no reason to lead him on, and…"

"I'm not 'leading him on', Christine!" Amme said hotly. "I think I've made it very clear that while he might…like me a lot, I do not return the feelings. Well, I like him, but not in that way."

"It might be clear to _you,_ Amme, but not to him. He'll take the slightest bit of encouragement from you and…run away with it! I'm not saying you'd do this on purpose, Amme," she added hastily when Amme glared at her. "I'm just saying, be careful. Don't…unless you _are_ in love with him, make sure, one hundred percent sure, he _knows_ that you don't return his love! The sooner he knows, the better it will be for everyone. Alright?"

"I," Meg started. "I, personally, think you and him are really cute together."

Both Christine and Amme stared at her.

"What?"

"Meg," Amme sighed. "You said before that Michel and I are 'really cute together.'"

"Oh," Meg tossed her head. "That was then. This is now. And you two are cute together. I don't think anyone could deny it."

"Except maybe Joshua," Christine smiled.

"Yes, well, his ears stick out, so no one listens to what he says."

Amme rolled her eyes. "Meg Giry, you are the most _shallow_ girl I have _ever_ met. Ever."

Meg grinned. "You're welcome!"

-

Amme was thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Thinking about the music lessons she had been forced to take, thinking about her conversation with Christine and Meg, but mostly she was thinking about her relationship with the Phantom.

They weren't friends; that much was obvious. Even when she told Kevin and her father that they were, she knew she had been lying. How could they be friends, when she knew how much he loved her.

She didn't love him. She knew that. Or did she? She could, she knew she could. It would be easy, probably one of the easiest things she'd ever done. But she couldn't, _couldn't_, allow herself to fall in love again. She could _not_ let herself be hurt again, like Erland hurt her. She couldn't trust herself, she couldn't trust the Phantom.

He didn't deserve that. If she was to believe what he told her, he loved her. Every time he told her that, it made her feel so guilty, like she _was_ leading him on, just like Christine had said.

But when he told her he loved her, it also made her wonder. Why did he love her? Did he really, truly love her, all of her, or did he simply love her voice. Amme was not oblivious to the fact before he heard her sing, he just wanted her out of the theatre, possibly out of the city or country. And afterwards, he liked her! Just like that. Was her voice all he cared about?

Amme wondered all these things as she sat down by the organ. She began to play, her mind still on her thoughts and questions. She had too many questions, but no answers. There was only one person who could answer them, and even if she _did_ manage to build up the courage to ask him, she knew exactly what he'd say.


	25. The Letter

Tell me something, what is it about me and my having "The -----" chapter titles? They're just such easy names, but sometimes I still wish I could come up with something a little more creative! Ah well, as soon as I name a chapter, even if I don't like the name, I'm usually too lazy to change it.

-

Amme was improving; her organ playing was getting slightly better. Erik had decided that the piece he had chosen to teach her had been too hard for her current skill level, and Amme agreed. The new one he chose was slightly easier, but she still struggled with it, so he had chosen a third one. When Erik thought she was good enough, in other words, she could play it almost as well as he could, she was rewarded by getting to work on the second piece once again. She did much better with it the second time.

"Amme?"

Amme turned around. She had been in the middle of practicing, but she didn't mind the interruption.

"Yes?"

"I just…I was…I mean, I'm sorry I interrupted your playing."

"It's alright." She smiled gently at him. "What's on your mind?"

Erik tilted his head. Amme probably didn't want to know everything that was on his mind; some of it wasn't what you'd call "appropriate" for casual conversation.

"Well," he started, rather pathetically. "You've been doing much better with your playing, so, I just thought…um, well, I was out last night, and I saw this, and I thought…"

"Just spit it out," Amme advised him when he hesitated again, her smile turning into a grin. "It'll be better for you if you just get it over with."

"I saw this, and I thought, since you've…been doing so well, and…I thought…you might like it, so…I got it," he finished lamely.

"You got it…because I've been 'doing so well?'" Amme asked, but then she saw "it", and her question went flying out of her mind.

Erik, who did not see her distraction, answered, "Partly."

"It's so beautiful," She whispered, not hearing his response. Her hand reached forward to take "it."

"It" was a necklace, simple but elegant. A dark blue sapphire stone hung down from a silver chain. The stone was small, perhaps the size of Amme's thumbnail, and perfectly round. When she put it on, it fit neatly into the base of her neck.

"Would I be correct in guessing you like it?" Erik asked.

"Uh-huh," Amme replied, going to the closest mirror and examining it. All the mirrors there were broken, but she got the general idea of how the necklace looked on her. "What do you think?" She asked him, turning back so he could see.

"You're beautiful."

"Why do I even bother asking you that question?" Amme grumbled, but a faint reddish tint had appeared on her pale cheeks.

He put his arms around her. "You can ask whenever you need your ego inflated."

"I'll remember that," She replied, leaning her head against his chest. Then she let out a sigh, feeling quite content.

-

Amme walked home, feeling the small weight of the sapphire necklace she wore around her throat. She had decided she didn't care if the Phantom _did_ seem only to get it as a bribe for her to continue her organ playing; it was just too pretty.

She strolled up to the door of her apartment. It was nice not to have to walk as far home, so that was the good part of the apartment. On the other hand, she _did_ prefer to see the stars before falling asleep, but that was easily remedied by simply opening her window.

"Hello, John," she greeted her landlord as she walked past him.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," John replied. "Amme, I have a letter for you. I don't know who it's from, but here you go."

Amme took the letter curiously and looked at the handwriting. "It's from Virginia!"

"Who?"

Amme, who was already hurriedly opening it, just shook her head. "A friend of mine from home."

She began to read it as she went up the stairs to her room on the second floor.

-

Erik was busy. Busy, busy, busy. Plotting and stalking and writing operas and torturing Carlotta took up so much of his night, he was amazed he got any leisure time at all.

But that never stopped Laetitia from interrupting him. "Hey, bossman!"

He set his quill down. "What do you want?"

"I want to invite some friends of mine, and…"

"No." He went back to his opera.

"Why not?" She pouted.

"Because you'll flood the opera house."

"Will not!"

Erik turned and glared at her. "Yes, you will! Now, will you be quiet? I need to finish this!"

"Yes, oh wise and powerful leader!" Laetitia said sarcastically. "Whatever you want. I live to serve you."

"I wish you'd go back to whatever ocean you came from."

She flipped her tail. "English Channel, actually. And now that I've proven you wrong, can I invite some friends over?"

Instead of answering, Erik stood up and, taking his now completed opera, stalked over to the boat.

"If you don't answer, or you say no, I'll knock the boat over while you're still in it!"

The Phantom froze. Then he said, "Have you ever tried swimming without your dorsal fin before?"

"Um…" Laetitia couldn't see where he was going. "No? It's sort of attached to my tail."

"That could be fixed."

Her eyes opened wide. "You…_wouldn't!"_

He tilted his head, and smiled innocently.

"You…would?"

"Don't touch the boat," He replied pleasantly.

"No wonder you're so unpopular at parties…" the mermaid muttered as she sank underwater.

Erik rolled his eyes, and started rowing to the other side of the lake.

-

He was almost to the place where he typically dropped off his operas when he caught a few snatches of conversation.

"Are…are you sure, Mademoiselle Eledhwen?"

Erik paused when Amme's name was spoken, and listened closely.

"I'm quite sure," she reassured him.

"Well," Andre hesitated. "We'll certainly miss you."

"How long should you be gone?" Firmin asked businesslike.

Erik felt a lead ball drop in his stomach.

"I'm afraid I don't know," she responded. "It could be a week, it could be a month. I have to get a few things sorted out at home."

"May I ask why you're going?"

Erik pecked out to look. Firmin had his back to him, but Andre was very clearly worried. Amme's face revealed nothing. It reminded Erik of how she looked when he first saw her: blank, hard, emotionless, empty. However, when Andre asked his question, a small crack appeared in her careful mask, sorrow and uncertainty showing through.

"It…it's rather…hard…for me…I…I just…I…." Erik had never seen Amme struggle to find words like that before. "It's personal," she finally finished, her mask intact again.

"I see…" Firmin frowned.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Andre wanted to know, but Amme shook her head wordlessly.

"I'll be fine."

"You're leaving…tomorrow, correct?" Firmin waited for a confirmation, which came as a nod.

As soon as it was clear the conversation was over, Erik threw his opera out into the entry hall, which hit Carlotta on the head as she entered. But Erik didn't laugh, or even stop to enjoy her shock; he was too busy rushing over to Amme. She had just gone into her dressing room, and Erik hurried after her.

"What do you think you're _doing?"_ He snarled as soon as the door closed.

She didn't turn around. Instead, she began to gather her few belongings into small piles. "I'm leaving."

"I figured that, strangely enough. But _why?"_

"I need to go."

Erik waited, but that was clearly all the answer she would give. "So…we're leaving tomorrow? I wish you could've told me sooner."

At last, Amme turned. "You're not coming."

He gaped at her. "Excusez-moi?"

"I'm going alone. Well, not quite alone," she amended quickly. "Starlight and Fate are coming, if they want. But you're not."

His temper was flaring up; he had to work hard to keep it relatively under control. "How come…a cat…and a horse…get to _decide_…whether they go with you…or not, but _I_…can't…go…with you…no matter what…_I_ want?"

She looked away again. "I'm sorry, but this has nothing to do with you."

"The hell it doesn't!"

"I'm sorry," Amme repeated in a small but firm voice. "But that doesn't change anything."

"Oh, really?" Erik breathed. "I don't _have_ to listen to you, you know! I'm going with you, no matter what!"

"Don't!" She begged. A few tears leaked out. Erik, noticing this, drew back, horrified with himself.

"Amme, I'm…"

"Don't," she repeated. "Please, don't."

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as she gathered everything into her arms.

When she finished, she turned back to him, biting her bottom lip.

"Au revoir, Mademoiselle."

"_Namárië_, Monsieur."

-

"Amme!"

"Virginia!" Amme smiled, a little sadly. She leaned over slightly and hugged the smaller elf. "How are things?"

"Oh, they're all right." Virginia returned the embrace before stepping back. "Are _you_ alright?"

Amme considered that question. "I've…been better."  
"Of course." Virginia sighed. "Well, there's no use putting this off. Once you get settled, Vanya wants to…remind you of your new duties."

"You can tell Vanya she doesn't have to," Amme replied softly.

"But…I know you know them already, Amme, but it doesn't hurt to have a reminder."

"That's not why I refusing." She took a deep breath. "I'm not doing it."

"But then…." Virginia's light brown eyes widened. "Why? No one will think worse of you, Amme, if you take…" she broke off, thinking hard.

"I need to go back," Amme whispered.

"No." Virginia looked horrified. "You can't! These are your people, Amme! You can't turn your back on them for a _human!"_

Amme stared off in the distance. "I already have."


	26. In Amme's Absence

The opera theatre suffered while Amme Eledhwen was away. Not only because they then had to use Carlotta, who, compared with Amme, did horribly. Not only because Meg and Christine and some other opera workers became rather depressed when their friend left like that. Not only because some of the people who _weren't_ so close to her were still worried something awful had happened to her. But mostly because of the Opera Ghost, things were doing dreadful.

His operas had stopped appearing, which struck a tremendous blow to the theatre's income. His operas had been becoming popular, and now they didn't have that extra little claim to fame for being the first theatre performing the Phantom's operas.

He also made all the other performances into complete nightmares. The managers would arrive in the morning only to discover costumes had gone missing, one of the singers had gotten seriously hurt late the night before, a backdrop had been ruined by a large, black skull painted right in the middle, and other things of that kind. Half the performances had to be canceled just because the Phantom wasn't allowing it to be put together even adequately.

Strangely enough, no one had been murdered, even though almost everyone was expecting him to snap and kill someone soon. Not even Carlotta was stupid enough to tempt him, though, and the subject was never brought up, not even in the privacy of one's home. Secrets and private conversations were considered unheard of luxuries to people working in the Paris Opera House.

Even Laetitia was careful around the Phantom.

"Hey, bossman," she began tentatively one day. "I think you're taking this too hard. Amme did say…"

"She said a lot of things!" Erik snarled furiously. "That doesn't mean anything!"

"But…" Laetitia really didn't want to correct him, but she did anyways. "But she's never lied before, has she?"

Erik didn't respond, hating himself for allowing distrust and suspicion and uncertainty come between him and his feelings for Amme.

Laetitia gained confidence when he didn't show any signs of anger or insanity. "I mean, really. There has to be some reason for her leaving that isn't because of you."

"Then _why,_ pray tell?" Erik shot back, getting partly out of his chair.

Her fragile courage disappeared, and with a timid, "…Nothing…" she disappeared under the water.

Erik sighed. Without thinking, he reached out slowly and touched one of his many drawings of Amme. This one was the newest one, the one he drew the day before he found out she was leaving. It was rather small, but it was his favorite, mainly because Amme was wearing a wedding dress. He hadn't really meant for that to happen, but usually once he began drawing, he became too absorbed to really notice exactly _what_ he was drawing.

His eyes dropped down to the small box on his organ. Inside was the ring he had gotten only two hours after he drew the wedding picture. He had fully intended to propose to her when she next came down. The necklace he had given her before was almost like a test, to see how she would react to him giving her jewelry; if she accepted it, that meant he could go ahead with his plan. Clearly, he failed the test.

-

Erik was absentmindedly watching the two managers confer about their next opera, thinking about what new horrors he could inflict upon the rehearsal and performance, when Meg came running in.

Her mother greeted her with her hands on her hips. "Meg Giry, do you have _any_ idea how late you are?"

"Oh!" Meg gasped. "Oh, that's not important now!"

"What?!" Madame Giry spluttered. "What…do you…you…"

"Christine needed me!" Meg danced on the spot. "She had _twins!_"

Erik felt his mouth drop open about a foot.

Andre and Firmin were startled out of their conversation. "Christine had twins?" The former asked, just to be certain.

Meg nodded happily. "Two little girls. The older one is Louise, and the other is Roselle." Spinning around again, she predicted, "Roselle is going to look so much like Christine when she's older!"

Madame Giry clapped her hands together, clearly no longer angry with her daughter. "That's wonderful news, Meg! That means they have…seven children now?"

As if Erik needed reminding. He had seen the first five—Charles, Meg, Philippe, Gabriel, and Nicolas—so many times, it was sickening. He hated Philippe the most—he looked exactly like the damn father.

"How can you tell…what's her name?…Roselle…is going to look like Christine?" Firmin asked.

"Oh, I can tell," Meg replied mysteriously.

"I want to go see them!" Madame Giry almost squealed. Erik's eyebrows shot up; he had never seen her like this before.

"But…" Andre was confused. "It's rehearsal time?"

Madame Giry rolled her eyes, much to Erik's relief; the squealing Madame Giry scared him a little. "They are your patron's new babies. And since the Opera Ghost is going to ruin the rehearsal anyways, I think going to see them will be a better way to spend one's time."

Ah, how well she knew him; Erik decided he'd have to be less predicable, and not ruin the rehearsal, just to annoy Madame Giry. And, of course, to prove her wrong.

"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" Meg ran out of the theatre.

Erik had always wondered where Meg had gotten her energy, but after seeing the way Madame Giry run after her daughter, he wasn't nearly as surprised.

-

"Oh! They're so _beautiful!"_

About half the opera workers, most of them female, where crowding around Christine's bed, cooing over the small newborns. Christine herself looked a little uncomfortable, but proud and happy. Her husband mirrored her expression almost exactly. Their eleven-year-old daughter Meg was sitting on her mother's bed, happy because she now wasn't the only girl in the family. The oldest, Charles, who was fourteen, held up little Nicolas, who was two, so he could see his baby sisters. Eight-year-old Philippe and five-year-old Gabriel stood in the back looking bored.

"Meg was right!" One of the ballet girls sighed. "Roselle _is_ going to look like you when she's older, Christine!"

"Down to the last curly brown hair," Christine agreed, slightly sarcastically. She shifted awkwardly, trying to get in a more comfortable position while still keeping a firm grip her new children.

"May I hold one?" A chorus girl begged. "Please?"

"Here." Raoul went over and handed the girl Louise, while taking Roselle himself. Christine smiled at him, and laid down all the way in her bed.

Now everyone was crowding the chorus girl and Raoul.

"She has your eyes, Raoul!" One person said of Louise.

"She's the most _adorable_ thing I've _ever_ seen!" Another said of Roselle.

"Shh," Madame Giry hushed them. "They're trying to sleep." "They're" meaning Louise and Christine; Roselle's eyes were wide open, trying to take in all the faces staring back at her.

"Why are they so small?" Gabriel asked, folding his arms and pouting.

"You were the same when you were born," Raoul told his son.

Gabriel clearly couldn't see what all the fuss was about. He seemed to be resenting his new sisters for taking all his attention. "I want chocolate."

"Not now, dear," Christine sighed without opening her eyelids.

Gabriel frowned, and looked back at Louise. He pulled a face. "Couldn't we have gotten a puppy instead?"

"Charles?" Raoul asked. "Could you take your brothers out, and find some way to entertain them for a while?"

Charles didn't look happy, but he did as his father instructed. The other three were thrilled to get out.

-

"I have few questions for you," Laetitia began, floating in the water just beyond Erik's lasso-throwing range, which was pretty far.

Erik glanced up. "Go ahead."

She scooted a little farther back, not taking any chances. "First of all, if you aren't going to let people perform your operas, why bother write them."

"Because I might change my mind sometime. And because I enjoy writing them." He snorted. "That was a pathetic question, you know."

Laetitia ignored the last sentence: she had been called worse in the past two weeks. "Alright, next question. Why aren't you excited that Christine had twins?"

He glared at her. She moved even farther back. "That is, without a doubt, the stupidest, most idiotic question I have _ever_ heard." The only de Chagny child Erik might have considered liking was Gabriel. Outwardly, he said he was a brat, but inwardly, he liked watching the little boy make his father twitch like crazy.

"You could at least be _happy_ for her!" Laetitia tried to sound brave, but when Erik stood, she dove underwater, and spoke her last question from there. "Do you know anyone named Pearl Morin?"

Erik froze while unhooking his lasso. "What?" He swallowed. "How…the _hell_…do you know Pearl Morin?"

"Um…" Laetitia frantically tried to decide whether to tell the truth or not.

"I'll know if you're lying," he warned her.

"Well, do you remember my friend, Islatos?"

"Only too well." Once, in one of Laetitia's many parties, Islatos had gotten drunk and managed to set Erik's newly completed opera on fire. The merman was lucky to still be alive.

"He, well, I heard from him that he heard from his mate, Beooca, that some human named Pearl Morin was talking about when she worked with some gypsies, and there was a boy too who always wore a bag over his head and that he had disappeared when they were in Paris. And I know that you used to be with the gypsies, and that you don't like people looking at your face, so you probably wouldn't have any objection to wearing a bag on your head, so I just thought…" Laetitia realized she was babbling, and that Erik was, once again, glaring at her. She shut up quickly.

"Is there anything else?" Erik asked coldly. He didn't get many blasts from his past, and when he did, it was always unexpected and unsettling.

"So, you do know her?" Laetitia guessed timidly.

The Phantom didn't respond. Yes, he had known Pearl Morin; a nice portion of scars on his back were because of that girl and her meddling. But he hadn't known that until later; before, he had been half in love with her. Of course, that had been years ago; he had practically forgotten about her since he ran off.

"What are you going to do?" Laetitia correctly supposed his silence was a conformation.

"Why do I need to do something?" Erik snapped. "She's not going to affect _me_ in any way, is she?"

_You could be surprised,_ Laetitia thought, but she refrained from answering him. She valued her life too much.

-

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE DIDN"T DO ANYTHING YESTERDAY?"

Erik looked up, grinning, after hearing Madame Giry's angry voice. Apparently, sometimes not doing anything devious could produce the same if not better results than actually _doing_ something devious.

"We told you not to go away," Firmin replied smugly.

She gave him her death stare. "You said no such thing."

Firmin backtracked quickly. "Its…well…it could be worse, though, couldn't it?"

"I just wasted a whole day when I could have taken advantage of the Ghost's strangely quiet behavior."

The Ghost chuckled evilly. His quiet behavior wasn't going to carry over from the day before.

"Haven't you noticed?" Andre began thoughtfully. "Haven't you noticed how…much better he behaved? When Amme was here, I mean."

Erik froze the moment Amme's name was mentioned.

"Of course." Madame Giry looked insulted, as if he implied she wasn't smart enough to realize Amme's influence and power over the Opera Ghost.

"I wish she was here now." Firmin spoke as if he was talking about a long dead loved one. "She'd probably not let him ruin us like he's been doing."

"She'll be back soon," Andre reassured them all. "She said she would."

Madame Giry refused to be reassured. "I hope you're right, but I doubt it. She never seemed exactly comfortable here. She probably was just making an excuse to bolt."

"That's unfair," Andre said quietly. "She didn't strike me as that type of person."

Erik, though, wanting desperately to believe Andre, found himself agreeing more and more with Madame Giry's words.

"Well!" Firmin said briskly, clapping his hands together. "There's no sense moping around about something we can't change. Let's get to work."

Erik sighed, watching them all leave to do their jobs. He wished desperately that he too could have something to do that would take his mind off of Amme. But she had become everything to him, and every single thing he did reminded him of her. If she didn't return soon, he'd have to leave. He had to run away from his memories, just as he had done before. As least when Christine rejected him, he was allowed hate Raoul, and that feeling, strangely enough, made things slightly more bearable. But Amme hadn't left him with anyone to hate like that.

-

Erik was casually walking along the shadowed streets of Paris late at night, trying, not for the first time, to forget about everything, and failing miserably. But then he turned a corner, and what he say knocked his memories of Amme out of his head more effectively than anything else he had tried. Before he could stop himself, he said, "Pearl Morin?"

The woman jerked her head around. "What? Who are you?"

Erik slowly stepped out of the shadows.

She stood up just as slowly, and narrowed her light blue eyes. "Who the hell…" her voice trailed off as she got a good look at him. "Erik Destler? I thought you were dead!"

His mouth twitched. "Not quite."

"You've upgraded, I see. From a bag to a mask." She grinned, but not in a friendly way.

" I suppose so."

She took another look at him. "You know, you've grown up."

"What, did you expect me to stay fourteen forever?"

"I thought you were dead, remember," Pearl reminded him archly. She eyed him speculatively.

The silence was awkward, for Erik, at least. He didn't like the way she looked at him. His eyes found themselves staring down at her low neckline. As his face turned red, he remembered she had always been rather a slut.

"So," She said conversationally. "How have things been with you?"

"Oh, um…fine. And…you?"

She checked her fingernails lazily. "Oh, my husband died last month."

"Oh! Well, I'm sorry."

"It's alright." She yawned loudly. "He was my fifth, you know. And they've all died, it's the strangest thing."

"You don't say." He folded his arms, suspecting their deaths were not coincidences.

"Yeah." Once again, an awkward silence descended upon them.

Finally, Erik broke it, saying, "I should probably leave."

"Okay." She smiled, slightly flirtatiously. "Where do you live? I could…visit you sometime."

Erik opened his mouth to tell her to nose out, or they'd see how she'd flirt with her eyes gouged out, but then he changed his mind. This could be his only chance to find a way to forget about Amme.

"Do you want me to show you?"

Her smile widened. "Now?"

Why not? "Sure. I have nothing else to do."


	27. Upon Her Return

Laetitia wouldn't talk to Pearl. She wouldn't talk about Pearl, nor would she talk in front of Pearl. Her conversations with Erik usually would at some point include him being called a complete and total idiot who seriously needed to rethink his life before someone shot him. Then she would dive back underwater, and not reappear for two days.

One day, Laetitia popped up looking slightly smug. "Hey, bossman!"

Pearl shrieked. "What _is_ that?!" It was, obviously, the first time she had seen Laetitia.

Instead of answering, Erik asked, in Mermish, "What is it, Laetitia?"

"You are in _ginormous_ trouble!" She cackled and disappeared.

Erik frowned. Turning to Pearl, he said, "I'll be right back."

She nodded, pulling her shirt back on. Laetitia had clearly left her without words.

Getting in the boat, he began rowing over to the other side. Once he reached it, he fully realized just how true Laetitia's words were; he was in _ginormous_ trouble.

"Amme!" He leapt out. "What…how…when…"

Amme tilted her head, but didn't answer. Her eyes were flashing dangerously.

"When…did you get back?" He finally asked.

"Ten minutes ago." Her voice was as cold as ice.

"Oh…." He couldn't look at her. "Did…um…did…Laetitia tell you…?"

"Don't worry," She assured him. She didn't seem anxious to look at him, either. "She told me plenty."

"Wonderful," Erik muttered. Louder, he said, "I thought…you weren't coming back, so…"

"But," Amme interrupted. "I told you, quite clearly, that I was." She took a deep breath. "But that isn't all I'm upset about."

"There's more?" He asked in disbelief. "What else did I do?"

"It's more of what you _didn't_ do." Her eyes narrowed. "How come you never bothered to tell me your real name?"

"That's _it?"_ Erik snorted. "That's what your upset about?"

"And this girl, this _human_, Pearl Morin, does know what your name is."

Erik flinched at hearing Pearl's name. "It's not that big a deal, Amme. I mean, we were getting along fine without…"

"I thought you hadn't told _anyone_ your name!" She nearly shrieked. "Am I the only one who doesn't know?"

"No!" He denied. "Of course not! Amme, listen. She knew me _before_ I became…before I came here, so that was…the only…well, not the _only_ thing I was called, but still…"

"But still, you could have told me."

"Alright." Erik sighed deeply. "I'm extremely sorry I didn't tell you my real name, and that I thought you weren't coming back. But you were gone so long!"

Amme pursed her lips, before answering. "It did take longer than I expected. There was quite a lot I needed to get sorted out before I returned, and there were complications I hadn't foreseen."

The Phantom waited; Amme simply stared down at her linked fingers. "So," he ventured. "Am I forgiven?"

"There's a little more," She told her hands. "Laetitia said…something about…you and this…Pearl. What you were…doing…last night…and the night before that…and…" Amme stopped suddenly.

Erik felt his heart sink. "And?"

"Is it true?" She whispered, still refusing to meet his eyes. Erik was very grateful for this; he didn't want to see hers.

"Is what true?" She'd have to say it before he'd admit it.

Amme, however, wanted him to admit it before she's say it. "You know what I'm talking about." Now she looked at him straight in the eye. Her face was full of hope, but at the same time, she knew it was false hope.

Erik bit his lip. Then he ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he said, "Pearl and I…have…had sex."

Amme looked away, nodding. "Alright, then. I suppose, if that's…I mean…well, yes…I mean, Laetitia mentioned…once or twice…I'm not sure, she wasn't sure. How many times…no, don't answer. It's not my business." She tossed her hair around suddenly. "Is she pretty?"

Erik was unprepared for this question. He answered without thinking. "Yes, she's beautiful."

Again, Amme nodded. "Okay. I see…. I'll go, I guess…." She turned and began walking away.

"Amme," he said gently. When she didn't turn around, or even stop, his voice got more and more desperate. "Amme! Wait, Amme! Amme, please wait! _Stop!"_ He screamed the last word, but Amme kept right on going. She didn't turn so he wouldn't see her tears, and, in doing so, missed his.

-

"Amme!" Meg squealed. "You're back!"

Amme tried to answer, but suddenly found the breath knocked out of her as Meg hugged her tightly.

"Meg," Madame Giry said, slightly amused. "You're killing her."

Meg let go, and beamed, unabashed. "I'm just happy to see you again," she explained.

Amme messaged her ribs. "Thanks," she managed to croak out.

"You're welcome," both Girys said at the exact same time.

"Are you staying, Amme?" Madame Giry asked.

"I think so," Amme replied vaguely. "For now."

"That's good!" Meg looked like she was going to hug her again, so Amme retreated several paces.

"Did you hear, Amme?" She continued. "Christine had _twins!"_

Amme's eyebrows shot up. "Really? When?"

"A little over a week ago. Louise and Roselle."

"Oh." Her face looked strangely wistful. "Those are pretty names. What are they like?"

"Louise is the quieter one. Christine said she doesn't cry nearly as much as any of the other children did. Her eyes are _exactly_ the same as Raoul's. The exact shade, the exact shape, everything. It's almost scary.

"Roselle is much more lively. And much louder." Here, Meg giggled. "But she's going to look just like Christine when she gets older."

Amme sighed. "I wish I had a baby."

Both Madame Giry and Meg stared at her. "You?" The former asked disbelievingly. "Want a baby?"

"Yes!" Amme replied defensively. "Why is that so strange? I've wanted one for a long time. The problem," she added, suddenly amused. "Is that I can't find any man I want to be father."

"That is a problem, isn't it?" Meg laughed.

"It's true, though."

"You can't think of one man?" Madame Giry said skeptically.

Once again, Amme's face changed; it looked rather far away. Lightly, she touched the sapphire necklace that hung at the base of her neck. "Not a single one."

-

"Amme!"

"Josh!" Amme smiled weakly but sincerely. "Did you miss me?"

"Very much." He beamed back at her. "Where have you been?"

"Home, in Ahsela."

"Oh, yeah. I heard something like that." Josh tilted his head. "What happened?" When Amme hesitated, he said quickly, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Thank you, but people lately have been telling me, quite a lot, that I shouldn't keep everything bottled up inside of me." She twirled a lock of hair around her slender fingers. "My father passed away," she admitted in a rush.

"Oh." Joshua touched her back tenderly. "Amme, I'm so sorry."

"I had to go home," she continued, seemingly without any notice of what he said. "I had to get…a few things sorted out before I could come back."

"Were there a few…irregularities with his will?"

"Not exactly," Amme replied uncertainly.

"But you've got it sorted now?"

"Very much so."

"And you'll never have to leave again?"

Amme hesitated again. "Not if I don't want to…."

"That's great!" Josh frowned. "Amme…have you…you know…forgiven me for what I did before? You know, hiring that man to take off the Phantom's mask?"

Amme sighed, but smiled gently. Looking him straight in the eye, she said, "You don't have to worry about proving to me how horrible the Phantom is. There will be no more contact between him and me. You're a better man than he is, and I have no doubt you always will be."

Back up in the rafters, the Phantom was fuming like crazy. How could she even _consider_ saying that idiot was a better man than him?

"That son of a bitch," Erik whispered, so softly, even Amme with her elvish ears couldn't hear him. "I'm going to kill him. I don't know when, I don't know how, but he will die…soon."


	28. Fights

Pearl Morin skipped happily down a back alleyway to the opera theatre. She had very good reasons to be happy; not only had she succeeded in seducing Erik for the fifth time, even though he wasn't as enthusiastic as usual, but she also managed to steal more things from him without his realizing it.

Yes, life was good. So good, she had bought herself a little treat with Erik's money. It wasn't much, just a little ruby and gold necklace with matching earrings and bracelets. Not too bad, right? Not as much as she had gotten when married to her second husband. She went a little too overboard with the shopping when married to him. Of course, she did end up having to sell half of it back, so no harm done. To him, at least.

Pearl took a slight detour, not exactly anxious to return to her current lover. She didn't want to see him and his deformed face more than necessary. Hey, she wasn't sticking with him because of his…ahem, wonderful personality.

One more turn, and she stopped short. A thin woman sat on a barrel with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her long black hair covered her face, preventing Pearl from telling if she knew the person.

"Um…excuse me."

The woman whipped her head around and glared. There were tear trails down her face, as if she had been crying hard. "What do you want?"

Pearl frowned. She recognized the woman, even though she hadn't met her. Erik had at least of hundred pictures of her hanging in sewers. "You're Amme, aren't you?"

"Yes," Amme said coldly. "And you are…?"

"My name's Pearl Morin."

"Oh." Amme's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I've heard of you. You've been quite busy with _Erik_ lately, haven't you?"

"Yes. He's mentioned you quite a lot, too." Pearl's frown deepened.

"Really?" Amme tried to pretend she wasn't interested. "What did he say about me? Something good, I hope?"

"Not at all," Pearl lied. She was an excellent liar; she had to be. "Mostly about how unfaithful you are, and how you betrayed him. He said he hated you, too. More than anything else, actually."

Amme slid off the barrel. She was a full nine inches taller than Pearl. "Well, that's wonderful. I suppose you could sent him a message from me?"

"Depends on the message," Pearl replied lazily. She was remarkably calm for having a six foot four, slightly unbalanced, extremely dangerous stranger towering over her.

"Tell him I am hope he is very happy with you, and I think you two deserve each other. Would you like me to write it down, so you'll remember?"

"I think I'll remember it," Pearl said, slightly miffed with the "deserve each other" comment. She couldn't tell if it was meant as an insult to her or Erik, but she took it as the former.

"Good. Then I guess I'll see you later."

"Perhaps." Pearl was reluctant to let Amme go so quickly. After all, the woman had one-up on her. "I'll try and fit some room in my schedule. After all, Erik and I have been so busy lately. You said it yourself. But I'll see what I can do."

Amme stiffened. Pearl smirked, but wasn't done yet.

"Have you ever seen him with his shirt off? It's actually gorgeous, something you wouldn't expect on such a hideous person."

If Pearl could have seen Amme's face, she would have left it right then and there while she still could.

"But, I suppose you wouldn't really care about someone's sexual appeal. After all, from what Erik implies, you're quite a prude. I might be able to understand why you don't want to go all the way with Erik, I mean, he _is_ a monster, but what about that Joshua Eddison? He's quite good looking, and seems to like you. I don't know why," she added spitefully.

At the word "monster", Amme had begun searching around for something to throw. But at the last sentence, she had given up the hunt, and turned slowly. Moving like a sleepwalker, she came right in front of Pearl, and then stopped. She tilted her head, and eyed the shorter woman speculatively. And just as Pearl was wondering if she had lost all traces of sanity, Amme's fist came crashing against her cheek.

Pearl flew back, and collided heavily with the barrels. "Ow!" She shrieked. "What the hell was that for, you little murderess!"

"I haven't killed you!" Amme snapped, her arms raised threateningly. "Yet! Just _try_ to call me that again!"

Pearl was not a total idiot. "You can't hit me!"

"I think I did!" Amme snarled. "And I'll do it again!"

"You little…"

"What's going on here?"

The Phantom's voice cut across the alleyway like a knife. Pearl got up and ran to his side, tears streaming down her face. Only Amme's eyes moved, following Pearl's every movement.

"She…she…she _hit _me!" Pearl sobbed, clinging to his chest.

Slowly, very slowly, Amme lowered her arms.

Erik looked at the growing red mark on Pearl's face, and then turned back to Amme. "Really?"

"I attack your lover, and the best you can say is 'really?'" Amme taunted. "You can do better than that, _Erik."_ She spat out his name is if it were a dirty word.

"I'm working up to it," he replied softly.

"You'll have to work hard, then!" She let out a slightly demented laugh. "If you want to reach my expectations! But then, you've never proven capable of reaching my expectations, so that isn't any surprise."

He waited calmly for her to finish her laughing. The laughter itself wasn't real—there was no humor in it whatsoever, only anger and humiliation.

"You had no right to attack her. You _left_ me."

"You think this is over _you!"_ She snarled. "It was…defending my honor! And I _told_ you I'd come back!"

"But you didn't let me go with you!" Erik shouted. "You didn't even tell me _why_ you left!"

"My father _died!_" Amme shrieked. "I…had to go home…so I could give Virginia the throne…so I didn't become queen…so I _could_ come back! And _stay_ back!"

"Say what?" Pearl frowned. The other two ignored her.

"Why…" Erik stammered. "Why…didn't you tell me?"

"Because…it's not what I do!" Amme was close to tears now. "And I _trusted_ you! To wait for me! To trust me, too!"

"Amme…." Erik reached out slowly. She batted his hand away.

"Instead, you had to at like a…a…you're such a…a…bastard! And…and…"

"Actually," Pearl interrupted. "You're right. He _can_ be a bastard."

"I wasn't talking to you!" Amme hissed, catlike.

Erik sighed. "Leave her alone, Amme."

Amme took a step back. "Sure!" She spat. "Take _her_ side! The _pretty_ one! One you can…can…"

"Amme…" Erik began, but, without warning, he was thrown back into the wall.

Amme was on top of him, clawing at his face, pounding his chest and shoulders. She was screaming like a demon, saying things in a language neither Pearl nor Erik could understand. But they could get the general gist.

"Stop it!" Pearl shouted. "Hey, get off him!" But she didn't dare go near the deranged elf.

Erik tried to shove her backwards, and instead, fell on hard on the ground. Before he could blink, Amme rammed her fist into his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

"Amme!" He gasped.

She didn't answer, just continued her attack. Erik managed to see, from beneath his now messed-up hair, that tears were falling down her face. That, more than anything, made him gather enough breath to yell.

"Amme! _Amme!_ _ENOUGH!"_

Amme fell back, trembling. She blinked several times, and a new expression of horror filled her face.

The Phantom slowly got up. His clothing was torn, his mask had fallen off, his hands were bleeding where he landing on them, there were long gashes along his chest and back, and bruises were forming on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry!" Amme whispered. She stumbled back some more. "I'm so sorry! I…" she turned.

"No!" He shouted. "No, Amme! Wait! Come back! I…I still lo…"

It was too late; she was gone.

Pearl hovered uncertainly. "You alright, Erik?"

He rounded on her, glad to have someone he could scream at. "No! I'm not! What do you think, you little…"

"Don't insult _me,_ monster!" She yelled back. "I didn't attack you!"

He reached out, grabbed her wrist, and snapped it.

"What the hell?" She gasped, trying to wretch away from him.

Very close to her, the Phantom whispered, "Don't you say one thing against Amme. I stood up for you, and this is what I got for it. From now on, Pearl Morin, you're on your own." He hurled her against the wall.

The truth was, though, Amme had scared him. Never had he considered her less human than now. If he hadn't managed to distract her, she might have actually killed him. It wasn't the dying that he was afraid of, but still….

He had never fully appreciated how different she was from humans. Never before had he stopped to think that he and Amme _were_ actually different species. In some ways, Pearl _would_ be better for him. At least she was human….

No. Erik's spine stiffened. He loved Amme Eledhwen, and that was the end of it. He didn't care what problems they would run into, if they weren't even the same species, he would have her, no matter what.

-

Joshua closed his door and grinned. Things had been going very, very well for him. Amme was back; she had forgiven him, and was talking to him again. All that combined put Josh in a very good mood.

Which was shortly to be ruined.

"Joshua Eddison."

Josh slipped off his chair in shock. "Who…who's there?"

"I'm right in front of you, genius. Open your eyes."

Much to his amazement, Josh realized his eyes _had_ been closed. "Oh, right."

The Phantom shook his head. "'Were I like thee I'd throw away myself.'"

"What?"

He sighed, "Shakespeare, _Timon of Athens,_ act four, scene three, line two hundred, thirty-one."

"Shakespeare," Josh frowned. "That name sounds familiar…."

"'Thou art some fool, I am loath to beat thee.' Which brings me to reason for this visit." The Phantom squared his shoulders. "Stay away from Amme. You have one last chance, otherwise I will _not_ be 'loath to beat thee.'"

"What does that mean?"

The Ghost's mouth dropped open. "'Rouge, thou hast liv'd too long.'"

"Whatever you say. But honestly, I thought you that this…Pearl Morin. Can't you be happy with you, and let me have Amme?"

"Amme…is…_mine!"_ He snarled. "Stay…_away_…from…her!"

Josh raised both his hands. "Okay, okay, calm down. I just don't think…"

"You never think," the Phantom snorted. "'You speak an infinite deal of nothing.'"

_"Anyways,"_ Josh pressed. "I don't think Amme would want to be the 'other woman.'"

Hmm. Clearly Eddison was smarter than Erik had supposed. Not much smarter, but a bit.

"She is _not_ the 'other woman,' she is the _only_ woman."

"What about Pearl, then?" Josh taunted.

"Why do you care?"

"You shouldn't leave one woman for anyone like that. Especially after you've had sex with them," he added slyly.

"You…I….'Go thou and fill another room in hell.'"

"Enough with the…whatever it is!"

"Shakespeare."

"Whatever! I don't care! You can't come here and expect to tell me what to do!" He stalked over to the door, and tried to yank it open.

"It's locked," said Erik unhelpfully.

Josh glared at him. "I can tell that!"

"Good." He paused. Once he realized where Josh was walking to next, he added, "The window's locked, too."

Josh jerked around. "Are you done yet? You've told me your message, now get out!"

"That's so creative, Joshua, but it doesn't induce me to leave the slightest bit."

"What are you going to do?" Josh snorted. "Quote more Shakestaff stuff?"

"Shakespeare," Erik correct, sighing. "And if that's what you want: thou art 'a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of not one good quality.'"

Josh frowned. "Are you insulting me?"

The Phantom sniggered. "Have you just realized that? 'Pray you, stand farther from me.'"

"I would if you'd unlock the door."

"Not yet. I haven't had this much fun in a long time. 'You have as little honesty as honor.'"

"I could say the same about you."

"Oh, now we're getting somewhere. I wasn't aware you could fight back."

"I'm sure there's a lot you're not aware of."

"Well, at least I know who Shakespeare was."

Josh gritted his teeth together. "You know, you can insult me all you want, I'm not going to leave Amme. I have more claim to her than you."

"Excuse me?" Erik hissed.

"I'm not the one who betrayed her, and started going with another woman the second she left."

"I didn't…not the second she left!" He protested. "I didn't think…"

"Of course you didn't think!" Josh said triumphantly. "And you didn't trust her. I did, I waited. Even when she was with you, I didn't sleep with someone else. If you were her, who would you chose?"

Erik could only stare. He had never considered Eddison capable of making sense with so many sentences like that. Even more stunning, he hadn't supposed Eddison to point out something to him, something he hadn't thought of.

"I…well…you…I…"

"Can't you form a complete sentence, hm, Phantom man?"

Erik took a deep breath. "'Thou art as good a gentleman as the devil is, as Lucifer and Beelzebub himself.'"

"Huh?"

I decided to be different, and see how many times I could have Erik insult Josh, Shakespeare-style, in one conversation. I think I did pretty well, too, all things considering.


	29. Revelations

"Amme, I can talk to you?"

Amme turned from her mirror in her dressing room. The Phantom stared anxiously back at her.

"Can I stop you?" Amme asked slowly.

"You could attack me again."

She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "But I really think it's important we talk."

"I don't have anything to say to you."

"Perhaps, but there's something _I_ need to say to _you_." He reached out his hand before thinking better of it. "Amme, I know _why_ you're angry with him. I understand that. But I wish you'd try and understand me sometimes."

"I don't know what you mean," she said frostily. "You left me for someone else; there's nothing more to understand."

"Amme, I thought you weren't coming back."

"And I _told_ you…"

He covered her mouth with one hand. "Let me finish. There is a _reason_ why I didn't think you'd return. It's not a logical reason, but still true." He lowered his hand. "Would you like to hear it?"

Amme flung herself into her chair and waited.

"Everyone in my life has…disappointed me, or…hurt me, or tried…their very best to make me miserable in some way. _Everyone,_ Amme, absolutely _everyone._ I know, I _know_, you aren't that type of person, but when you left, I…I couldn't convince myself that anymore. It was…easier to…to be with someone I _know_ didn't care about me, because…because when she leaves me, I…I just…won't be…surprised." He was close to losing it; he shut up.

"Does…" She hesitated. "Does she…love you?"

"Love me?" He gave a hollow laugh. "Nobody loves _me,_ Amme. Nobody ever, _ever_ has. It's just…something I've learned to live with."

Something changed in Amme's face, though Erik couldn't quite pinpoint what it is. "Can you _try_ to understand me, Amme?"

Absentmindedly, she stroked her necklace. "I could try."

Erik smiled faintly. "I gave you that necklace, remember?

"It's pretty." She sounded rather defensive. "It doesn't have anything to do with who gave it to me."

"So you'd wear any jewelry, even if Eddison gave it to you." The thought was insulting.

"Only if it was pretty. I wouldn't wear something ugly, no matter who gave it to me."

"Really."

Amme frowned at him. "Don't try reading too far into this. A necklace is a necklace; I judge people by their actions, not their looks."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes you shouldn't even do that. Sometimes, you should judge someone on the purpose for their actions, instead of just the actions themselves."

-

Madame Giry cornered Amme almost the second the later stepped out of her dressing room.

"So! _There_ you are!"

"What?" Amme asked nervously.

"Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?"

"Um…is this a trick question?" One could never be sure with Madame Giry.

_"It's the day before opening night of our new opera!" _She snarled.

"Oh…." That would explain why she had been so tense lately.

_"'Oh'?_ You've been slacking off so much lately, and all you can say is _'oh?'"_

"Well, what do you _want_ me to say?" Amme snapped. "I'm sorry, okay? I've had a lot on my mind!"

"That's no excuse!" Madame Giry retorted. "I expect total dedication from everyone, no matter what's been on their mind. Sing me your solo in act two."

Amme sighed, but began singing.

"_Love—soft as the feathers on an eagle's wings_

_Love—joyful as the feeling a rainbow brings_

_Bright as the moon at night when the stars shine_

_Please promise me you are mine_

_Love—pure as snow falling on the mountainside_

_Love—dries the tears that will no longer be cried_

_Free as the mighty sea that breaks the shores_

_I promise you I am yours_

_You and I and I and you_

_Leaving each other never_

_I don't care what anyone says because I know it's not true_

_Come rain, sun or snow fall I want us to be always together_

_Me and you and you and me_

_That's how I want it to stay_

_The kind of love I'm feeling will endure through eternity_

_There's nothing left to fear as long as you are here with me each day_

_Love—warm as the rain's promise there will be sun_

_Love—like going to sleep when the day is done_

_No change except to grow or to renew_

_That much I can promise you"_

When she was done, she looked at Madame Giry expectedly.

"Alright," the older woman said grudgingly. "You've been slacking off, but you're still doing very well. Don't make me talk with you about this again."

"I'll try not to." Amme replied slightly sarcastically.

"And don't talk to me in that tone, either," the older woman commanded sternly. "Now, run along to rehearsal, will you? And don't slack off anymore."

Amme forced herself not to roll her eyes as she 'ran off to rehearsal.'

"Ah, there you are, Amme."

Lots of people seemed to be looking for her today. "Oui, monsieur?"

Andre shifted slightly. "Well, I was simply wondering…you see, you've seemed rather distracted lately, and I was wondering if you can manage opening night tomorrow. If not, Carlotta can sing your part instead."

Amme had never suspected this happening before. "I can do this. I just had this…almost exact same conversation with Madame Giry, and _I can do this._ I'm not distracted—at least, not anymore. I'll be fine."

"Well…." Andre wasn't convinced. "Unless you change your mind…"

"I'll be fine," Amme repeated.

Andre gave in. "Very well, then. If you're sure, Amme, then I won't argue with you. I wasn't very keen on giving Carlotta the part, anyways," he added to himself. "Not when the Opera Ghost was very specific about who got…." His voice trailed off. Straightening out, he said louder, "I'll see you later, then, Mademoiselle."

Amme watched him walk off with some uneasiness. How come everyone seemed to think she couldn't do this? She had been working so hard…why hadn't they noticed that? She _had_ had a lot on her mind, obviously, but she thought it hadn't shown in her performance.

"Amme!"

The elf's uneasiness turned into angry and irritation when she saw who called her name.

"_There_ you are!" Pearl Morin literally skipped up next to her. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you!"

"Why, pray tell?" Amme asked coldly.

"Well, you understand me and Erik, don't you?" Pearl began mischievously.

Was the human girl trying to get herself killed? Amme could only hold onto her temper for so long, and the stupid human saw before what happened when she completely lost it. "What about you and_ Erik?"_

"I was afraid," Pearl said slyly. "That when he broke my wrist," she held up a cast. "That meant things were over between us…."

"He broke your wrist?" Amme had to admit, she was surprised, and rather impressed. "Why? And When?"

Pearl did not want to answer those questions, so she didn't. "But I'm sure you'll be happy to know that we had sex only last night. So everything's going just wonderful again, and _you_ can now forget all about him. He doesn't need you," she added spitefully. "He has me now."

Amme felt as if she had just been rammed in the stomach by an iron fist. She couldn't think of anything to say; what was there to say, anyways? For the first time since she was seventeen, she had lost an actual battle. She knew it was a battle; over what, though? Had she been defending her honor, her pride, or was it over the Phantom himself? Whatever the cause had been, though, Amme would not have expected to lose to such a delicate looking human girl.

Pearl delightedly watched her words' effect on Amme. "And that's all." The human girl skipped off, just as happy leaving as she had been coming.

Amme walked as though in a daze. She had just realized something, something important, something now impossible. Why did she always realize important things when it was too late to do anything about them?

"Amme!"

"What?" Amme snarled, jerking around to face a very confused Joshua Eddison.

"Oh! Um…are you alright?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm alright. What is it?'

"Well," he began. "I've heard you've been having a tough time lately, and I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, or anything like that, I'm here for you." He had rehearsed that speech several times before, but Amme didn't know.

"Thanks, Josh," she said softly. "And I _am_ really sorry I snapped at you."

"Ah, it's okay," he replied forgivingly. "Don't worry about it."

Amme smiled weakly. And then she leaned forward, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

-

Amme didn't want to go. She could have stayed in bed the whole day, and would have preferred it to facing the world. Starlight had to scratch her several times before she got up.

"Blasted cat," she muttered.

_What's the matter with you?_ Starlight scolded. _Just because you've had a rough few days, you've never given up like this before. _

"Things haven't been _like_ this before," Amme retorted.

_What things? What's going on, Amme?_

Amme didn't responded. She knew what was wrong, but that didn't mean she'd admit them to anyone.

_Well,_ Starlight concluded. _If you're not going to tell me, it can't be that bad. Now, _march!

Amme did not enjoy taking orders from a cat, but ,after all, she had learned long ago it was impossible to argue with one.

_Come on, woman! You don't have all day!_

They were also so damn unsympathetic.

-

Everything that could have gone wrong on opening night did go wrong.

First, one of dancers sprained his ankle during rehearsal, and obviously couldn't perform. Then, one of the singers didn't show up to either rehearsal or the performance. She had a small role, but that didn't mean people weren't extremely annoyed with her. Carlotta then had a sudden fit of brattiness, and complained loudly how she didn't see why _Amme_ got the lead when she, Carlotta, was such a better singer, and prettier, too. Amme ignored all her insults, even though they were shouted right in her ear, and Carlotta ended up going to whine to Andre, who was a much more sympathetic listener.

But everything finally came crashing down halfway through act two of the performance.

Amme was just getting ready to go onstage and sing her solo, when she spied Christine talking frantically to Madame Giry. She didn't think much of it, until she heard her name.

"…think we should tell Amme?" Christine asked worriedly.

"Tell me what?" Amme asked, frowning.

"Nothing," Madame Giry lied quickly and obviously.

"If something's going on that concerns me, I'd like to know."

"It…doesn't _directly_ concern you," Christine said slowly.

Amme glared at them. "What. Is. Going. On?"

Christine gave in fairly quickly. "You know that girl who didn't show up tonight? Catherine Roy?"

Amme nodded, not seeing where this was going.

"Well, I went to investigate why she didn't come, and…it turns out, she's a few months pregnant."

"What does this have to do with me?"

Christine now looked a little scared. "Not directly, remember. And I'm not even sure…." She sighed. "Mademoiselle Roy claims the father is Joshua Eddison."

Amme's eyes widened, but before she could say anything, Madame Giry cut in. "It doesn't matter! Forget about this for now, you need to sing! Go on, get onstage!"

She literally pushed Amme out.

Amme stood, center stage, her legs shaking like a newborn filly's. Her mouth opened, but, for what seemed like eternity, no sound came out. Just as everyone began to think she would be sick, her voice came warbling out.

"Love—soft as the feathers on an eagle's wings

Love—joyful as the feeling a rainbow brings…"

_'The father is Joshua Eddison…'_

"Bright as the moon at night when the stars shine…"

_'A few months pregnant' A few months…_

"Please promise me you are mine…"

_Pregnant? He left me too._

"Love—pure as snow falling on the mountainside…"

_'Pure?' Yeah, right. If love is pure, why is this happening to me?_

"Love—dries the tears that will no longer be cried…"

_And destroys everything it meets. Why do men do this? They're all the same—Joshua, the Phantom…_

"Free as the mighty sea that breaks the shores

I promise you I am yours…"

_The Phantom?_

"You and I and I and You…"

_Erik…?_

"Leaving each…other…never…"

_Can't even count all the damn times he said he loved me._

"I don't care what anyone says because I know it's not true…"

_'Anyone?' 'Not true?' That is true…no one's ever honest with me…_

"Come rain, sun or snow fall I want us to be always together…"

_At least Erik had the decency to leave me before he starting sleeping with another woman._

"Me and you and you and me…"

_Michel…I left him for Michel…he left me for Pearl…_

"That's how I…I want it to stay…"

_I left him for Erik and he left me for Catherine Roy…_

"The kind of l-love I'm feeling…"

_Am I as bad as them? Am I worse?_

"…will…endure through e-eternity…"

_'…judge someone on the purpose for their actions.' What did he mean by that?_

"There's nothing left…to fear…"

_'Forget about this for now!' '…forget all about him.'_

"…As long as…y-y-you are here…"

_'He doesn't need you.'_

"…with…with me each day…"

_Phantom…'he doesn't need you…'_

"Love…"

_Erik…_

"Love—warm as the rain's p-promise…"

_Erik…_

"…rain's…rain's…promise…there…"

_Erik!_

"…there…sun…

Love…

Love…

L…"

Amme's eyes rolled back, and her shaking legs collapsed beneath her.

-

Special thanks to my brother for writing the song/poem. I tried to write one, but nothing would come --I'm not that much of a poet/composer.


	30. Running Out Of Time

Joshua paced back and forth on the almost empty street, waiting for someone to come out of the house.

And sure enough, soon Christine came out, scowling at him. "I told you to leave. Don't make me call the police."

"I just want to know how she's doing!" Josh said hastily.

Christine's expression didn't soften. "The doctor's with her. She hasn't woken up yet."

Josh swore quietly.

The two of them stared at each other in silence for a time. Finally, Josh ventured, "Amme will be fine, though, won't she?"

Christine sighed, and worry broke through her irate mask. "No one's sure. She could be better by tomorrow, or she could be dead in a few hours. I don't know." Anger colored her beautiful features again. "This is your fault, you know."

"_My_ fault!" Josh yipped. "How is this _my_ fault?"  
"She _trusted_ you, and you got Catherine Roy pregnant. Or are you going to say that poor girl lied to me?"

He fumed, which Christine took as a confirmation.

"You _did_ get her pregnant!"

"It was a one time thing!" Joshua snapped, but suddenly, his face brightened. "You said she trusted me, didn't you?"

"I believe I did." She answered coldly. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think she loves me, too?"

Christine's mouth could have caught flies at that moment. "_What?_ You…you…you _betrayed_ her, and you're asking if…if she _loves_ you?" She pulled herself up to her full height. "If she did, I would be very much surprised if she still does now. Now, _get out!"_

Joshua scampered. He was in a very good mood.

Christine turned and stalked back inside, muttering to herself. Joshua had, however, pointed out something that Christine couldn't get off her mind. Amme _had_ fainted after hearing Joshua had gotten another woman pregnant. _Did_ that mean she loved Joshua?

She remembered Amme's last moment awake. Her singing had started out fairly weak, and only proceeded to worsen. Then, when her legs gave way, the entire theatre gasped loudly, and Christine could have sworn she heard a cry from box five. Josh had ran onstage, and picked up Amme, but Christine bullied him into letting Raoul carry her outside—Raoul had needed a little persuading, too. They took her to their house, and found a spare room for her. Meg had run for the doctor, and that brought Christine back to the present moment.

She stepped silently into Amme's room. Amme herself was lying on the bed, long hair spread across the pillow, her mouth opening and closing as if she spoke, though no sound came out.

"How is she?" Christine asked the doctor.

He sighed heavily. "Well, her heartbeat is going far too quickly, and it just won't calm down. She was screaming a little when you were outside, but those died down quickly."

"Will she be alright, though?"

He hesitated. "She should be awake right now. The fall didn't hurt her. Physically, she should be perfectly fine. The only thing wrong with her is her racing heart."

"But will she be fine?" Christine repeated. "Should we keep her here, or move her to the hospital?"

And again, he hesitated. "Well…it doesn't matter. There's nothing I can do for her here or there."

Christine felt cold. "Explain, please."  
"She's dying. I'd say she has two more days to live."

-

When Amme started singing, Meg had been anxious. When Amme had collapsed, Meg had been scared. When Christine told her, very glumly, that Amme was dying, Meg was terrified. But she was also very upset and angry. Amme was a strong person! She couldn't just suddenly _die_ like that! It simply didn't happen!

There had to be a reason why, and Meg had arrived at it fairly quickly. Amme had not been the same since the Phantom had left her, and Meg was certain that had something to do with her being suddenly on her deathbed.

Meg strolled surely back to the opera house, and went straight into Amme's dressing room. It had used to be Christine's dressing room, and Meg had found, during her time as the lead singer, a way in there to the Phantom's lair. She had led a mob down it once; she never expected to use it again.

It didn't take long before she found herself face to face with the Phantom of the Opera.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He snarled. He looked rather disappointed, like he had been hoping for someone else.

"I need to talk to you about Amme," Meg said boldly.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers impatiently. "Well?"

Some of Meg's confidence was disappearing. "Um…you know Amme fainted onstage, right?"

"I was there," he said coldly. "I say her."

"Well." Now Meg was a little frightened. "I think it's your fault."

He didn't answer—just continued to tap his fingers against his upper arm.

"Amme was fine before…before you two split up. And…and that Pearl—I know she's being mean to Amme. But you didn't stop her, so it's your fault that Amme's dying…."

"She's _WHAT?!" _The Phantom screamed. He broke his stiff posture, and grabbed Meg tightly on the arm. "You didn't…she's…say…you…dying…AMME!"

"It's your fault," she repeated stubbornly.

"It can't be!" He wailed. "I love her! I would _never_ hurt her!"

"But you did. And look what happened because of it."

He fell to the ground, and covered his face with shaking hands. Meg couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

"I thought you should know," she said finally. "Just so you know what you did."

"But _why?"_ He asked, looking up at her in anguish. "She's never cared for…me…." His voice broke on the last word. "She doesn't love me."

"I don't know who Amme does or does not love, but I still think she at least _liked_ you enough to be hurt seeing you and Pearl together."

He flinched at Pearl's name.

"So, that's all." Meg turned around, and started to leave.

"Wait." He grabbed her arm again. "I want to see her."

"I don't…"

"I." The Phantom said fiercely. "Want. To. See. Her. I _need_ to see her!"

Meg sighed. "Come with me, then."

-

_Everything was dark. I couldn't remember anything. Who was I? Why was I here? Where _was_ here_?_ Nothing made sense to me. Words weaving in and out of my mind were in no logical order, no rhyme or reason could be made of them. I tried screaming some, just to see if that would help, but the words meant nothing to me. Want, need, hurt, hurting, music, mind, heart, hatred, ghost, death…why was I thinking them? _

_I fell into silence again, focusing on one word in particular. I couldn't help it, but my mind kept coming back to music. Why that word? The more I thought of it, the more I knew it was important. I mouthed it over and over to myself, trying to make sense of it, but nothing worked. _

_Unbidden, I thought I heard a few strands of music playing in my mind. It was a man singing, and he was singing to me. The song was happy…loving, even._

_I didn't know how, but I knew I had actually heard this man's voice before, and not just here in the darkness. Because this man with the beautiful voice wasn't here in the darkness—I was completely alone._

-

"I do _not_ want that man in my house!" Raoul hissed to Meg the second he had cornered her.

"Oh, hush. He's not going to bother anyone. He just wants to see Amme."

"Amme should be allowed to live her last moments as happy as we can make her. And that does not include a madman."

"She's not going to even know he's here," Meg said reasonably. "So I don't think he can affect her happiness any more than he already has."

"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"  
Meg looked left and right before saying, "I think it's the Phantom's fault Amme's dying."

Raoul snorted. "Wouldn't be the first person he's killed. But Christine told me only thirty minutes ago that it's Joshua Eddison's fault Amme's dying."

"Eddison?" Meg had not considered that. But she quickly dismissed that thought. "No, Amme can't love him: his ears stick out too much."

"If we are basing Amme's feelings on appearances, I think Eddison has the Phantom beat by a long shot."

"You think," She agreed. "But you're not a girl, so you wouldn't understand these things. Now, if you don't mind, I need to set things straight with Christine."

"Is this really a good time?" Raoul asked. "Amme Eledhwen's dying, and you're going to argue over who she's in love with?"

Meg tossed her blond hair over her shoulder, and ignored him.

-

Erik had refused to believe Amme was dying until he finally saw her. And even when he saw her, he refused to give up hope that there would be _some_ way to save her.

"You're sure there's nothing you can do?" He asked the doctor for the hundredth time.

The doctor glared at him. He had taken an instant disliking to Erik—maybe it had something to do with him not wanting a known killer bending over his patient. "As I've told you, I'd have a much better chance of doing something _if I knew what was wrong with her!"_

"Why don't you find out?" Erik snapped.

"Because there _isn't_ anything wrong with her!"

"Aside from her dying!"

"Exactly!" The doctor retorted.

Erik fumed until he turned back to Amme. Then his face softened. "Amme, I'm so sorry…."

"Don't be so greedy to take _all_ the credit. I doubt you had enough power over this girl to make her want to stop living."  
He glared at the smaller man. "Maybe I wouldn't take _'all the credit'_ if I knew _why_ she was dying!"

"You don't know because I don't know because she _shouldn't_ be dying!"

"But she is!"

"Exactly!"

The two men glowered at each other.

Amme then began to thrash, waving her arms and legs around and nearly kicking the Phantom off the bed.

"Amme…" he reached out to touch her before being thrust aside.

"She's my patient! I can take care of her."

Erik automatically began to reach for his lasso before remembering that killing the doctor probably wouldn't be the wisest idea.

"What's going on?" He asked, when Amme's frantic voice began filing the room.

"I think she's hallucinating."

She screamed again; Erik caught the word _"Singing."_

"'Singing?'"

"Pardon?"

"That's what she said. 'Singing.'"

"I told you, she's hallucinating." The doctor bent down to listen. "Hmm…who's 'Emily?'"

Erik felt cold all over at the mention of Amme's dead sister. "Emily…."

-

_The man's singing brought memories. Pleasant memories, like my time with my friends, Fate, Starlight. Some times I spent with a tall, blond man, and other times with a dark, masked man, who was the one singing to me. Singing to me? Masked man…_

_It was as if a light flashed inside my mind. Everything went from pitch black to blinding white. Dazzling white. Masked man—the Phantom! Erik! I could feel myself crying, reaching out as if I could touch him. It was impossible, though. I was as much alone in the white as I was in the black. The color made no difference, I still couldn't see._

_But was I alone? I felt suddenly that someone was with me. The light dimmed enough for me to make out bouncy yellow curls and serious, but happy violet eyes._

_"Sister," Emily smiled. "I've missed you."_


	31. Emily

_"Emily!" I ran forward to embrace my sister. "I had a terrible dream, where you were dead!"_

_Emily smiled. "I _am_ dead, sister," she explained. "That wasn't the dream: this is."_

_I looked around, and found a log for me to sit on. "That makes no sense. You're here, how can this be a dream?"_

_Emily sat down next to me, crossing her ankles underneath her dress. "Well, it's rather difficult to explain. You're dying, you see."_

_"I'm dying?" Those words sounded foreign to me. I had never been even remotely close to death before. "How can I be dying?"_

_My sister examined me with serious violet eyes. In them, I could see my own, caramel colored ones; they were utterly bewildered._

_"I think you know why, Amme." She hesitated. "After all, it _is_ partially your fault." _

_"My fault?" I repeated. "I don't remember stabbing myself, or anything of that sort." _

_"No," she agreed. "You did not. But you still chose not to live. Why is that, Amme? What happened to you, to make you decide this?"_

_I stared at the river running rapidly in front of us. Watching the water, and not my curious sister, helped me think: why did I choose this?_

-

"You're telling me Emily's her dead sister?"

Erik glared at the doctor. "I've said that three times already, I'm not going to say it anymore."

"Fine," he sighed. "And I suppose it's not going to change things, anyways. She's dying, and there's no way we can stop it."

The Phantom winced and looked away. On one hand, he wanted to go back to the opera house, and pretend. Pretend that Amme was fine, that she would be coming back to him soon. On the other hand, he couldn't leave her. "May I be alone with her?" He finally whispered.

"Absolutely not!" The doctor snapped. "I'm not about to leave my patient with a known killer!"  
"If she's already dying, and there's nothing we can do about it, what are you worried I'll do?"

He fumed, but could think of no comeback. "Ten minutes! That's all you get!" He strolled over to the door, and was about to yank it open, when it slammed open.

The Phantom jerked around. "What are _you_ doing here?" He growled at Joshua Eddison.

"I have more right to be here than _you!"_ Josh snapped.

Erik reached for his lasso, and the doctor spotted him.

"No!" He cried. "I don't want any murders here! Understand?" When the Phantom didn't stop moving, he said louder, "_Understand?"_

"I heard you the first time!" Erik snarled. "You don't need to shout!"

"Who's shouting?" Josh smirked.

"Both of you! Lower your voices instantly!" The doctor barked. "We have a dying woman in this room!"

"Yeah," Josh said. "And I came to see her! Move over, you!" That was, obviously, addressed to the Phantom.

Erik hissed, catlike. It was eerily similar to something Amme might have done. "Get out before I kill you!"  
"Oh, come on!" Josh laughed. "Would you really kill the man Amme loves, even if she is dying? If you really cared about her, you'd let me live."

The Phantom froze, shocked. "The man she…what?"

"Oh, yeah," Josh said breezily. "She loves me. Why else would she collapse right after finding out some other woman's carrying my child?"

"You're delusional," Erik informed the other man coldly. "However did you arrive to that conclusion?"

"Your old love, Christine, told me so herself," Josh replied smugly.

-

"Christine!"

Christine glanced up. Meg stood in the doorway, looking very, very irritated.

"Just a second," she gasped, trying to keep a firm hold on her struggling two-year-old. "The nurse just put Louise to bed, and then she'll come and take Nicolas off my hands." She wormed the toddler's fingers away from her pearl necklace.

"You can still talk, though," Meg observed. "And that's all you need to do right now."

"But…." She shifted to keep Nicolas from escaping. "I need to keep…." She winced as he pulled her hair. "All my attention on him, so…." She tried, one-handedly, to grab her necklace back from her thieving toddler. "So I can't talk very well."

Meg sat comfortably in a chair. "Can't you listen, though?"

"You can help, you know!" Christine snapped, lunging forward as Nicolas toddled as fast as his chubby legs could carry him away.

"Children under five and I don't mix."

"But that doesn't mean you can't…MEG!" She screamed.

"You don't need to yell! I'm right here!"

"Not you," Christine retorted, as her daughter came into the room, carrying Nicolas.

"I have him, Mother," Little Meg said.

"Do you know if Louise is asleep?"

"Yes, but Roselle is throwing a tantrum. She's hungry," Little Meg explained.

"Great," Christine groaned. "Um…Meg, if you really want to have a conversation, you're going to have to wait a few minutes."

"It's about Amme," Meg sighed.

Christine looked up sharply. "What? Is she dead? Why didn't you say…?"

"No," Meg said quickly. "She's not dead. Not yet, at least. But Raoul said that _you_ said that she liked _Joshua Eddison?"_

Christine stared at her friend, her mouth hanging open. When she pulled herself together, she asked, "Is this _really_ the moment for this?"

"But it's important!" Meg protested. "I don't think this has anything to _do_ with Joshua! He's too stupid, and his ears stick out too much!"  
"Let me get this straight. You don't like Joshua Eddison because his _ears stick out too much?"_

"Yes, that sounds right."

Christine shook her head. "You are, without a doubt, the shallowest woman I have _ever_ met."

-

The doctor glared at the other two men, who were busy glowering at each other. "If you two _don't_ mind, I have to check my patient. Now, behave, or get out."

Both of them chose the former, even though they continued to glower.

The doctor swore as he listened to her heart.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked, coming next to him instantly.

"I'm losing her. Unless a miracle happens, there's no way she can live much longer."

The word "miracle" triggered something in Erik's mind. "I want to try sometime."

"What?" The doctor asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to…it's difficult to explain. Just give me two minutes alone with her."

When the doctor hesitated, the Phantom added, "If it doesn't work, it won't hurt her in anyway. But there's not much time, damn it!"

"Don't let him!" Joshua snapped. "He'll probably kill her, or something."

The Phantom rounded on him. "She's already dying!" He screamed. "I'm not waiting for your _permission!_ Now, get the hell out of here before I kill you! And I _will_ kill you!"

Josh stalked out, yelling over his shoulder, "Two minutes _only_, monster!" The doctor followed, slamming the door behind him.

Now, Erik focused all his attention on Amme. She was laying eerily still, her skin even paler than normal. He brushed a few strands of raven black hair from her bone-white face before reaching deep inside of himself, and shoving every last drop of magic into her.

Quickly, he felt her life force. Like a candle, it flickered when the magic came closer. Erik was not sure what to do from here. It was one thing to be told the woman you loved was dying; it was quite another thing to actually _feel_ the life fading slowly away from her. He finally decided, after a moment's contemplation, to try calling it back, like he had done for Fate.

But elves, he quickly learned, did not react the same as horses. Amme trashed and bucked; a well-aimed but completely unconscious kick in the Phantom's stomach nearly sent him careening into the wall. When she managed to bite his shoulder and a few drops of blood appeared, he nearly did break his concentration.

"Damn it, Amme. Hold still," he muttered, as if she could hear him.

-

_I felt a small tugging at my consciousness, as if some evil being was trying to tear me away from my beloved sister._

_"Someone wants you," Emily observed dispassionately._

_"Someone wants me away from you," I corrected her. I fought the pull hard. For a few moments, I felt as if I had won. But then, it came back at full force. I let out a scream of frustration, and punched the air, as if that would keep me there._

_"Someone misses you," Emily continued, quite calmly._

_"I do not care if the entire country, no, the entire _world_ misses me!" I had never been so serene as my sister. "I can't to leave you!"_

_"Why?" Emily asked. "We shall see each other again. I am sure of it."_

_"I don't _want_ to leave you!" I corrected myself._

_"Why?" Emily asked again. "You could be happy there."_

_"Happy?" I let out a cold, hard laugh, and then a scream as the pulling got more frantic. "How could I be _happy _there? Not when ever person I know has betrayed me in some way!"_

_Emily slid off the log. "Now, listen, sister. You cannot let the actions of that Erland shape the ending of your life."_

_"Not Erland," I whispered. "I could not care less about him now."_

_Now she was confused. "Someone else, then? Really, Amme, what's the matter?"_

_I tried to push the yanking back, and, for a second, it worked again. "I'm so sorry, Emily. I'm so sorry I let you die."_

_"Is that why you want to stay?" Emily giggled. "But _I'm_ happy, here. Have you been kicking yourself this whole time? Really, sister of mine, you put far too much weight on yourself."_

_I was so shocked, a relaxed my fight. Instantly, I felt myself getting farther and farther away._

_"Stop blaming yourself, Amme!" Emily called after me. "And remember, let other people in. You always did want to do everything yourself, sister!"_

_I tried to respond, but, suddenly, everything went black._

-

"Two minutes are up, monster!"

Erik turned to scowl at the blond man, but the doctor rushed in between them before any blood could be shed.

"Well?" He asked briskly. "Did it work?"

Erik returned his attention to Amme. "I…have no idea," he admitted.

The doctor began to check her closely. "Well, her breathing's normal, and her heartbeat's steady, but it's also way too slow. I don't think you did much good; there's no way any human could survive with their heart going so slowly like this."

Erik took a deep breath and ran his fingers deep into his hair. With another sigh, he turned and strolled out the door, fighting tears the whole way.

The moment he stepped into the hall, a tiny, black ball of fur came pelting at high speed out of nowhere. Its frantic meows soon became much more calm. In fact, they almost sounded content.

-

Just to give you all a heads-up, there's just one more chapter and then an epilogue left.


	32. A Second Chance

Here is the second-to-last and the longest chapter. I hope you all are happy, it took me a long time to write.

Mutely, Erik made his way down the opera sewers and rowed across the lake. He didn't hear Laetitia's timid inquiry of what was wrong. She quickly gave up and disappeared under the black, still water.

Someone else, however, wasn't about to be ignored by the Opera Ghost.

"What's going on?" Pearl asked lazily, lounging across a chair and propping her chin on her hands. When Erik didn't answer, she said louder, "Hey, monster! I'm talking to you!" With still no response, she strolled over and slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you _dare_ ignore me, monster! What's going on? Is it going to affect me in any way?"

He blinked, and looked at her. His dark brown eyes were snapping with fury. In a deadly calm voice, he said, "I'm going to do something I should have done the moment I laid eyes on you."

Pearl stumbled backwards. "What the hell are you talking about? I haven't done _anything_ to you!"

"I'm not asking you to admit anything!" He hissed, advancing on her, grabbing his lasso as he went.

"Th-hen _what?"_ Pearl stammered. "W-what happened?"

"Amme's _dead!"_ The Phantom snarled. "And I should have killed you a long time ago!" He had put up with her for too long. From the first moment she asked him to do something for her, usually illegal, and then go blab to someone else. Only everything would be blamed on him, and he'd get the flogging.

"What?" She squeaked. "B-but, Amme's death isn't my fault! She didn't even _like_ you!" She added cruelly, jumping back, closer to the lake and away from the deranged killer in front of her.

Erik lunged at her, but a pale green arm reached out and yanked the terrified woman away.

_"Dammit, Laetitia!" _He screamed furiously.

"Don't kill her!" Laetitia said courageously.

"Don't get involved!" The Phantom snapped, shaking furiously.

Laetitia could see he was close to killing her as well, so she shouted, "Amme wouldn't have wanted you to!"

He stopped, but the anger in his eyes mounted. "Amme's dead! _DEAD!"_

"Don't take your anger out on her," Laetitia breathed. "You're turning into what Amme hated!"

Erik collapsed, his head buried in his hands. His shoulders shuddered as the two women heard his sobs echo in the cavern.

Laetitia turned to Pearl. "I'd leave now if I were you," she advised her. "And don't come back if you want to live."

Pearl, of course, didn't understand Mermish, but she got the general gist of what the strange creature was saying. With a last, terrified look at the crying man, she swan as fast as she could to the opposite shore and fled to the world above.

Once Pearl had left, Laetitia turned all her attention to Erik. Tears continued to pour down his face as he cradled in his hands a small object, a diamond ring, by the look of it. His lips were moving, but his voice was so soft all Laetitia could make out was Amme's name.

"Is…" she hesitated. "Is Amme really dead, then? I mean, you saw her die?"

"No." His voice cracked. "But there's no way she could survive."

She bit her lip. "Listen, I'm really, _really_ sorry. But you're one hundred percent sure she's gone? I mean, she's surprised you before."

"She's gone," he whispered, now stroking the engagement ring. "She's…." He stopped, and said something else. "I…I really, really love her. She's…she's," he gave a wild laugh. "She's insane, difficult, stubborn, infuriating, and _completely_ impossible. And I fell completely in love with her…."

"I'm sorry," Laetitia said again, not knowing what else to say.

Erik looked up suddenly. "If…I don't suppose," he croaked. "You'd…kill me if I asked you to."

She started. "You suppose correctly!"

He stood and put the ring in his pocket. "I suppose that's for the best. There's something I need to do first, before I die."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!" Laetitia snapped. "Dying because the woman you love is dead is horrible! And utterly insane!"

"I've been called worse things," he replied looking around. His eyes landed for a brief period on the drawing on Amme in a wedding gown.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I haven't finished yet!" The mermaid shrieked. "Maybe I'll get there!"

Ignoring her, the Phantom picked up his lasso and sword, and strolled towards the boat.

"What exactly are you planning on _doing,_ you…you…blockhead!"

Erik paused upon being called "blockhead," but only for a moment.

"Pervert!" Laetitia shrieked. "Stalker! Murderer! Reprobate!"

When he didn't stop, she screamed at the very top of her lungs, "MONSTER!"

-

Shortly after the Phantom had left the house, Joshua had been kicked out as well, along with the little kitten who had snuck in there. For some strange reason, the cat was in a very good mood, practically dancing and skipping around. When it began to do a very bizarre, cat version of the cha-cha, Josh got up and left. Quickly.

The street was dark and quiet, and Josh felt slightly uncomfortable. He didn't know why, but he felt someone was stalking him. But when he looked around, no one was there. How strange.

He walked a little farther down the road when he heard a soft whistling noise. He ducked instinctively, and it was lucky for him that he did. The lasso pulled around thin air, and dropped on his head.

Josh stumbled back, narrowly missing the Phantom who leapt out of nowhere with his sword drawn. The masked man's entire body quivered with rage; his eyes were wild with insanity.

Josh shrieked, and skipped backwards. Grabbing a fallen tree branch, he lifted it in front of himself defensively. The Opera Ghost brought his sword down on it, cutting the branch neatly in half. Josh threw one half at the Phantom, and gripped the other tightly.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Josh screamed.

Erik didn't waste his breath with an answer. He was going to kill the Englishman before killing himself, and that was the single thought he could hold onto. Reason, sense, logic was lost on him.

"Don't be stupid!" Josh snapped, jumping from the madman's blade again.

Erik hissed in fury and brought his sword down in a killing stroke that Joshua barely missed.

Josh thrust the branch forward as hard as he could and hoped. He got lucky; the branch clipped the Phantom on the shoulder, pausing his next attack. Josh took advantage of his momentary hesitation, and chucked the branch at his head. The end hit Erik, and he stumbled backwards. His sword dropped, and his thoughts caught up with him—not that they changed his mind any. Then more thoughts caught up with him, and he lunged for his fallen blade.

Josh was one step ahead of him, for once in their entire rivalry. He picked up the sword and swung it around. He wasn't particularly adept at swordplay, but it wasn't always necessary when fighting a deranged and unarmed man—especially an unarmed one.

Erik made a wild dash back to the opera house, or just away from there, but Josh somehow managed to cut him off. Swinging the sword clumsily around, he thwacked the Phantom and himself on the same pass. They both fell over, disoriented.

Erik blinked red and blue stars out of his eyes; his mind, which had gone spinning out of control, had settled back down into its usual pattern. In front of him, Josh was staggering to his feet, using the Phantom's sword as a prop.

"I think I've won," he said fuzzily.

The Phantom raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Since when have your thoughts been correct?"

"Huh?" Josh was confused, a typical response for him.

Instead of answering, Erik quickly reviewed the situation. He was currently down a dead-end street, his lasso was on the ground twenty meters away and his sword was held by the dolt he wanted to kill. Since he refused to die without killing the dolt first, he'd have to do it bare-handedly.

He stalked forward slowly, judging the other's reaction. Josh blinked in surprise and gripped the sword tighter. His jaw set and his eyes flashed dangerously.

Before Erik moved much closer, Joshua waved the sword out, forcing him backwards. He danced around the point for a few moments, looking for an opening. Finally, Josh tripped and Erik made the leap.

Luck was still on Joshua's side; he managed to jump back unscratched. The Phantom however was not so fortunate. He stumbled against the wall, clutching his stomach as red blood stained his white shirt. His lips twitched into a snarl, and he dropped. Colors and shapes swirled around his eyes, and Eddison's irritating laugh began grating against his eardrums. He wanted to raise his hands to cover his ears, but his arms wouldn't move.

The laughter was cut off by a high-pitched shriek, and the night was silent again. Erik could barely manage to keep his eyes open, but he was glad he did. An angel hovered in front of him, black hair fanning behind her like a halo, anxiety showing in her light brown eyes. Her pale hand reached out to him, touching the place where his own sword had slashed him, and Erik felt strangely content.

-

Everything was peaceful, comfortable, quiet.

Well, not completely quiet; low voices whispered in the background, but Amme managed to tune them out quite effectively. She needed to think, and this seemed like a good opportunity to do just that.

There was one fact she quickly decided on: she wasn't dead. She had no idea what death was like, but this wasn't it. The place she had been before, that was death. It had been just as peaceful and comfortable, but different. The difference Amme couldn't put her finger on, and she gave up trying.

The next important thing to settle was where she was. Doing so, however, required Amme to open her eyes, something she didn't feel like doing. So that would have to wait—next question, please.

What was she going to do now? Well, one thing was for certain, she wasn't going to die. Amme was not ready to die yet. There were a few things she still wanted to do, most included a certain human who shall remain nameless. She was having enough trouble admitting to herself she was in love—she wasn't ready for names to come into the equation. But they'd have to soon. Immortal she might be, she couldn't let herself be a coward forever.

The voices, very inconsiderately, got too loud for Amme to continue ignoring them. Irritatedly, she opened her eyes.

Wherever she was, it wasn't a place she recognized. The walls were smooth and polished to perfection. There was a chest of drawers next to the bed she was laying on, and it, too, shone dully. There were several chairs around the bed, with people in them. The people who were talking, people whom she recognized.

Most of them, anyways. Christine sat in the nearest one, a worried expression on her beautiful face. Meg sat on one side of her, and a strange man sat on the other.

"Amme!" Christine cried. "Are you alright?"

Amme sat up before her spinning head knocked her backwards again. "Where am I?"

"In my house, Amme." Christine still looked worried. "In the guest room, to be specific."

"Ah." It was all she could manage.

"Amme," Christine continued. "This is the doctor. He was looking after you while you were…" she hesitated.

"Dying," the doctor said bluntly. He held out his hand. "It's good to finally meet you, mademoiselle."

Amme smiled, and shook his hand weakly. "It's a pleasure, sir."

The doctor clapped his hands together. "Now then! Enough chitchat! I want to do another physical of you, mademoiselle, if you don't mind."

Amme shook her head. "I'm fine with it, but…." She bit her lower lip. "You said I was…dying, correct? So…how come I'm not anymore?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather be dying?"

"No, but…"

"No buts! Stop you're complaining! You're alive, so leave the mystery of your miraculous recovery to me."

Amme smiled. As the doctor did the physical, she asked, "Did anyone come to see me? While I was indisposed?"

"Of course," Meg assured her.

"Joshua Eddison did," Christine added.

Amme nodded faintly. "Josh did? That's good…"

"The Phantom of the Opera did too," Meg interrupted. "I told him what was going on myself. Raoul wasn't too happy."

Amme didn't notice the pale rose blush creeping along her cheeks but the other two women did. "I…imagine not. So…did he…did they say anything to you?"

"The Phantom was very upset," Meg informed her.

Christine shot a dirty look at her friend. "So was Monsieur Eddison."

"The Phantom was more!" Meg argued.

"It doesn't matter," the doctor said, finishing his examination. "I threw them both out, anyways."

Amme's instincts began to prickle in a way that did not bode well. "Really? So you don't know where the…they are right now?"

Christine frowned. "No…but I'm sure they're both fine."

Amme was not comforted, but she lied, "Yes, I'm sure you're right."

"Of course she is!" Meg bounced up and down in her chair happily. "And now I can tell the Phantom that you're alive, and he'll be happy, and you two can get back together!"

Amme's blush deepened dramatically. To distract herself and everyone else, she said, "What's that scratching noise?"

Christine got up, and opened the door. Immediately, a black ball of fluff came bounding into the room, settling on Amme's chest.

"What's that cat doing here?" The doctor snapped. "I threw that out too!"  
Amme cradled Starlight protectively. "Don't! She's saying something!"

The room fell silent except for Starlight's frantic meows. The humans were thinking Amme had completely lost her mind.

_I'm glad you're better, Amme,_ Starlight began. _And I hate to push you so, but something horrible's going on right now!_

"What is it?" Amme whispered.

_Your two lovers are quite literally fighting to death even as we speak! And I heard from that mermaid that the masked man intends to kill himself after he kills the blond man!_

"NO!" Amme shrieked, jumping up. Her legs trembled alarmingly, but didn't give way. "He can't!"

"What's the matter, Amme?" Christine asked, concerned.

Amme looked at her. "I am _very_ grateful for everything you did for me, and I _do_ hate to run like this, but he needs me!"

"Who?" Meg asked.

"You're my patient!" The doctor replied angrily. "You're in no condition to leave!"

"I have to go!"

"But why?" Meg wailed, sensing something was very, very wrong.

"I'll tell you later," Amme called over her shoulder, nimbly dodging the doctor's attempt to block her and sprinting out the door. Her legs still shook, and she became short of breath very quickly, but at least she still could run.

-

Amme began shivering almost the second she stepped out the door; she was still wearing her costume from the opera, and it was very skimpy. The Phantom had probably specially designed her outfit to torture her onstage—the fact she had so little to show made things even more embarrassing. Amme wished she had taken time to steal a coat.

Starlight led her down street after street. Here and there, the kitten would pause, unsure of which way to go next.

"Are you _sure_ you remember where they are?" Amme asked, her teeth chattering.

_Positive._ A cat would never admit they were wrong. _They're around here somewhere._

"Somewhere, as in, the entire city?" Amme had had enough. "Let me try."

_I thought you couldn't sense the masked man,_ Starlight meowed skeptically. _Some sort of magical defense he naturally has, or something, that blocks it._

"He might," Amme agreed. "But Joshua doesn't."

_Who?_

She sighed. "The blond man."

_Ah._ Starlight learned his name and then promptly forgot it again. _Go to it, then._

Amme smiled fondly before letting her mind open carefully. A thousand minds flooded into her own; she could feel every breath, hear every heartbeat. If she decided to investigate closer in one, she would even be able to hear thoughts. But that wasn't what she was after.

Still slowly—sorting through minds could be exhausting, and she wasn't in her best shape—she hunted through each mind. She quickly blocked out the non-human ones—that made things much, much easier. Then it was a simple matter of finding Josh's. She had spent so much time with him before, finding his mind wasn't very difficult.

"Got him," she announced.

_'Bout time,_ Starlight grumbled.

Amme ignored her, concentrating on the pull of Josh's mind. He was close; he was also tired and hurt, but happy somehow. If she chose to, Amme could have searched his mind to find why, but she couldn't afford to waste anymore time: it would have to wait till later.

She discarded her shoes, and followed the pull, slowing only when Starlight meowed at her to wait up.

Amme turned left, sprinted down a long street before turning left again.

_Wait!_ Starlight yelped.

"Hurry up!" Amme shouted back.

_Slow down!_

She didn't answer that time; a tall, blond figure was sneering down at a dark shape right in front of her. Amme didn't bother making her presence known; she merely picked up the fallen and forgotten sword and bashed the hilt against Josh's head. His laughter was cut off, and he went down with an "Oof!"

Erik had a long, deep gash right in his stomach. He would die without immediate attention—magical attention.

"Oh, no," Amme mumbled, kneeling in front of him. "If I'm not going, you're not either."

His eyes focused hazily on her, and the corner of his lips tugged upward. He didn't seem surprised to see her there, only curious. He mouthed _you're alive?_

Amme smiled reassuringly and pressed both her hands deeply into his wound. Blood rushed around her, coloring her pale skin red, and she forced back the strong urge to yank herself away. Then came the hard part.

Her body hadn't fully recovered from her near-death: it clung to every little bit of magic in her system. Amme did her best, pushing as much magic away from her, into Erik, as possible. The more she pushed in, the more difficult it got. Her entire frame trembled with the effort, and sweat dotted her forehead.

"Yes!" She gasped triumphantly, watching as the light blue magic sparks sealed the gash. She pulled her hands quickly away and wiped them on her thin skirt.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amme saw Joshua rising. Instinctually, she grabbed the sword.

He rubbed the back of his head. "Did you really have to hit me so hard, Amme?" Then it dawned on him. "Amme! You're alive!"

"It appears that way, doesn't it?" She didn't trust herself to stand, so she remained kneeling, glaring at the blond human. "Why did you attack him?"

"Me?" Josh said incredulously. "_He_ attacked _me._ Not the other way around!"

Amme glanced at Erik. He was taking deep breaths, his eyelids fluttering up and down; he didn't appear aware of the present circumstances. "He must have had a reason, then."

"Oh, sure. If _I_ attacked him, it's bad, but if _he_ attacked me, he must have had a good reason!" He huffed and puffed indignantly. "Well, I got news for you, missy, he wanted to _kill_ me! How's that for a good reason?"

Amme turned to face Joshua. "I'll listen to him when he wakes up. I trust him more than I trust you."

"What?" Josh yelped. "He's a murderer, Amme! A murderer! What did I ever do? Nothing! That's what!"  
"Joshua…" Amme began, but Josh cut her off.

"You believe a murderer over me! He's a monster, Amme! Do you understand me? A monster! A freak!"

"Joshua!" Amme's tone became harsher.

"A freak! Monster! Murderer! Stalker! Kidnapper!"

_"SHUT UP!"_ Amme shrieked.

Joshua froze, and Erik chuckled evilly—he had come back to his senses, and was enjoying the scene in front of him.

Amme wasn't finished. "I don't like you, Joshua Eddison! I have no respect for you, and I believe you are the most miserable excuse for a living creature in the entire universe! I don't know why I even _thought_ I might like you!"

Erik chuckled again; the scene was only improving.

"Amme…." Joshua was shocked; no one had ever spoken that way to him ever.

"I hate it when you insult people like that! You don't bother understanding anyone! Your entire universe revolves around you! You never took the time to understand how I feel! You thought I would automatically fall in love with you, but I've got news for _you,_ bucko, I fell in love with someone else!"

A warning flashed in both Erik and Josh's minds. "Who?" They asked at the exact same time.

Amme, however, didn't answer. She set her jaw and glared at the blond man.

The Phantom thought over these new discoveries. She didn't love Joshua, so clearly it wasn't exactly necessary for him to kill the man (he might do it just for fun, though). However, he might have a new, unidentified rival who would have to be taken care of. And quickly.

But first things first.

Joshua was very busy throwing a tantrum. "Amme! You're supposed to love _me! _Not some stranger!" And things like that. The man was literally on all fours, pounding the ground and bawling his eyes out. If Erik had time, he would have been quite amused.

Amme was shocked. Her almond eyes were open wide, and her mouth had dropped to her chest. She couldn't even regain enough composure to tell Eddison to shut up again.

Erik crept up behind her. Very, very softly, in her ear, he whispered in his most seductive voice, "Amme, I need a name."

Amme blinked, and turned towards him. His seduction had only worked so far; she smiled crookedly. "You're smart; figure it out."

"Amme," he said again. Sometimes eye contact helped. Absentmindedly, he twirled a piece of her hair between his fingers. "Just tell me. A name, that's all I need. It could even be just a first name, or a last one. A middle one, even! Just something."

"What if I don't _know_ his middle or last name?" She asked flirtatiously. "What if I just know his first name?"

"Then tell me that."

They both were inching towards each other unconsciously. Their faces were only a few centimeters apart.

"Amme!" Joshua shrieked, interrupting them. "You can't fall in love with him! He's a monster!"

This time, Erik froze. Amme rounded on Josh.

"I can say it for myself!"

"What?" Erik whispered. Louder, he said, "Say what for yourself?"

"Ignore him," she replied, nodding to Joshua. "He's an idiot."

"You mean you don't love that monster?" Josh was relieved. "That's…"

"I didn't say that either!" Amme snapped. "Stop assuming things!"

"But…."

"Shut up!"

"So you do, then?" Erik asked quietly. He put his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "Do you love me?"

His heartbeat started racing as he watched her struggle to answer. If she said no, that was it. His entire world would collapse again, he didn't know if he could even begin to put it back together. But if she said yes….

However, it looked like she wasn't going too answer at all. She was chewing on her lower lip so much, teeth marks were appearing.

"Amme." He meant for his voice to sound soothing, but he was far too desperate for this information. "Amme, I love you. And I know I'll never love anyone _half_ as much as I love you. And I _need to know_ if you love me back." Amme looked like she wanted to run far away, so Erik grabbed her arm. "You've been wiggling out of this question for months now. _I need to know!"_

"You love me…" Amme whispered. "Because of my singing voice…."

If the moment weren't so serious, Erik would have rolled his eyes. "Give me a little credit, Amme—I'm not _that _obsessed with music."

"You can't love _him,_ Amme!" Josh protested hotly. He staggered forward and grabbed her arm too. "You can't love a monster! You have to love _me!"_

Erik hissed, and Josh backed up slightly. Amme didn't move; her eyes were glued on the Phantom's face, pleading, as if he could save her from this. Even though he was the one demanding she talk.

He reached up and stroked her cheek. "One word, Amme. That's all it is, one word. Yes or…no."

She gulped and opened her mouth. No sound came out.

"Don't say anything, Amme!" Joshua screamed. And he ran at the Ghost.

Erik stepped nimbly to the side, but Amme still hadn't moved. Josh crashed right into her, knocking her to the ground. The sword fell out of her hand, and went skidding.

Both men sprinted after it. When Amme had it, it was neutral. Now whoever held the sword had the power.

Josh was not a fast runner, and Erik pasted him easily. He lunged down for it when Josh's elbow collided painfully with his ribs. He rolled over, and sat up.

Joshua pointed the sword triumphantly at the Phantom's throat. "This time, I've _really_ won!"

Erik opened his mouth to retort, probably in several different languages, when a gunshot echoed across the alley.

Amme blew the smoke away. "Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to enter a battle scene unarmed?"

Joshua attempted a response, but that resulted in coughing blood out. Erik scampered back as the dying man fell forward. A small hole showed in his back.

Erik sheathed his sword, and looked at Amme. "You _shot_ him?"

She got to her feet. "I didn't have a knife on me. I had to use what I had."

_"You_ killed him?"

"Oh, is that what you're getting at?" She twirled the gun around her hand. "Yes, I killed him. You just saw it happen."

_"You?"_

"Be quiet!" She snapped. "Now, we should probably clean up. Then I need to thank Raoul for letting me borrow this."

Erik was momentarily distracted. "You borrowed this from that…?"

"Yes," Amme interrupted. "From him. Now, this was in self-defense, because he was obviously attacking me. Can you remember that?"

He snorted. "I don't think I can help your case too much. Can we just blame it on de Chagny?"

"No. I'm going to go the police to explain. He attacked me and I have to bruises to proof it, damn it." She showed him one forming from when she was pushed.

"Wait!" Amme stopped. "You still haven't answered me!"

"Oh." Amme blushed pink. "I think…I mean…this isn't the time…."

"This is the perfect time. Tell me now." Once again, they were nose to nose.

"I…." She blushed even more. Shyly, she admitted, "I love you."

His breath cut; how did this night turn into the best in his life? How did he get so lucky? However, he wasn't done yet. "Enough to marry me?"

Her voice went up about an octave. "Yes."

"Soon?" His lips lightly brushed hers.

"Okay," she managed to squeak.

And her thoughts were abruptly cut off as his lips pressed hard against hers.

Erik had the immediate sense he was in heaven and wondered briefly how he had gotten there.

And now all that's left is the epilogue. Not over quite yet!


	33. Epilogue

Torture's not quite over yet: there's still the epilogue:

Erik Destler sat comfortably at his organ. It was a rare quiet moment, and he fully intended to take advantage of it. He wrote down a few notes, scribbled out a few more, made notes in the margin. He toyed with the idea of changing keys, and liked it. C sharp minor worked very nicely, didn't it?

He didn't actually play out anything, for fear of ruining the quiet moment.

Something grabbing hold of his leg told him the moment was not destined to last much longer.

"Yes, Eric?" He asked, without looking down. His son was the only one who grabbed his leg on a regular basis.

"Daddy!" A voice squeaked. "I miss you!"

He chuckled. "I'm right here, Eric." He reached down and picked up the three-month old. "Where's your mother?"

The boy giggled, and clung to his father's arm. "Mommy with Violet and Melody!"

"Hmm…aren't you supposed to be asleep?" They both knew the answer to that; Melody was the only one who slept when it was time to.

"Yes, he is." Amme walked in, holding baby Violet in her arms and frowning at her son. She had been the one to name Eric, claiming he looked more like his father than his mother. The Phantom had only agreed if the spelling at least would be changed. He just felt someone who looked like him with the same name would be condemned to the same fate he had, and even the smallest difference would help.

He handed over the boy to her. "Really, Amme. I thought it took normal children longer to walk and talk than three months."

"Maybe for humans," Amme replied, shifting her gripe on the two toddlers. Eric reached out and pulled one of his sister's short blond curls. Violet shrieked. "Enough, Eric. Don't tease your sister." Back to her husband: "But I learned at four weeks. And I was a normal child. I was beginning to worry about these three."

He groaned. Just his luck, his three half-elf children would mature so quickly. "Why did you have to have triplets?"

It was a frequent question; Amme knew better than to get annoyed. "Not my fault."

Again, Erik groaned. Then he said, as Violet got her hair pulled again, "I'll take Eric. I don't think he can sleep, anyways."

"Yeah! Yeah!" Little Eric began tugging on his mother's hair. "No sleep! Help Daddy!"

Amme hesitated, but gave in. "Alright, but you have to be quiet." She handed him back to Erik.

He placed his finger on his lips and smiled at his son. "You heard your mother: we have to be quiet."

Little Eric nodded, and asked, "You play, though?"

Erik laughed. He could already tell his son was musically talented.

His fingers moved softly around the keyboard, creating the music he was currently writing. The toddler's eyes widened, and he tried to bat the keyboard, but his arms weren't long enough.

-

Erik and Amme had married about two years ago. Since Erik had a price on his head, they had to go to Ahsela, which worked out best anyways: the elves wanted their princess's wedding with them.

The wedding took place in the evening to accommodate the vampires who preferred not to be awake during the day. The only lights came from the moon, stars, and tiny glowing orbs a few talented elves called up—they hovered like fireflies around the roses that decorated the hall.

Kevin was to be Erik's best man, more from a lack of knowing people than from an actual liking of the vampire. In an implicit agreement, they both were on their best behavior when first confronted with the situation, if only for Amme's sake. It was a rather uncomfortable truce.

Christine and Meg were both invited, although it _was_ incredibly awkward on Christine's part. At first they were in shock discovering their friend wasn't actually human, but first Meg, than Christine got over it when the wedding came around. Meg and Amme's friend Veronica were both bridesmaids, and Amme's closest friend, Maria, was the matron of honor.

The day of the wedding had arrived, and it was the most nerve-wracking time of Erik's life. He hadn't seen Amme, who was getting ready, the whole day, either, and that made things worse.

"Nervous?"

Erik stopped pacing and glanced up. Kevin was standing on the ceiling, something which he discovered annoying the Phantom very much. Of course, that meant he had to do it more.

"Wouldn't you be?" Erik snapped back in respond to the question.

Kevin shrugged and folded his arms. _"Voj wolnis. _I don't know. I've never actually gone through it, you see, so I _couldn't_ know."

"Oh, very funny." He turned his back on the vampire.

Kevin jumped down; since Erik wasn't looking at him, there was no reason to stay on the ceiling. _"Wolel,_ you know, the worse that could happen is the princess leaving you alter."

"Oh, and that's supposed to be _comforting,_ I suppose?" Erik asked sardonically.

_"Ejil joliseli okesim." _

Erik, who had been briefed by Amme on some _Vempieson_ before coming_,_ snorted. "It may be the truth, but that doesn't mean you have to say it."

Kevin found, much to his disgust, his primary weapon of irritation had just been snatched away from him by his own ally. He'd have to talk to her about this later.

In a dramatic change of subject, he asked, "Are you going to wear your mask tonight?"

Erik spun around and glared furiously. "Of course I am!"

Kevin, who had correctly predicted that response, shrugged. "Yeah, but I thought the princess prefers you not to wear it."

Erik had had several very colorful versions of "I don't care" formed and ready for use, but he couldn't use them when Amme was the one he'd indirectly be saying it to. "Amme…understands…."

"Of course she does," Kevin smirked, knowing a won battle when he smelt it.

The night came slowly, but it _did_ come. Erik went over his vows over and over and over in his head. They would be said in Elvish, so Amme had also prepped him on the basics and a little more, so he'd actually know what he said and what was being said.

Kevin strolled up to him. _"¿Desilo? _Ready?"

"Yes and no."

He yawned and ran a hand through his silky hair. "It'll be over soon enough. Then you get the princess all to yourself." He shivered at the thought.

It did, however, cheer Erik up immensely.

"Have you seen her yet?" He asked after a pause.

"Five minutes ago."

"How…" Erik hesitated. "How is she?"

Kevin rolled his eyes. "You sound like you just confessed to murdering her cousin."

"But how _is_ she?" Erik pressed.

"Let me put it this way: she _really_ must have hated her cousin."

"Oh, ha ha."

The queen, Virginia Táralóm strolled down the aisle. "Are we ready yet?"

Erik looked up and gulped; the hall had filled remarkably quickly. Every person had stood the moment Virginia entered, and stared straight at the trio.

"He'd better be," Kevin replied, glaring threateningly at the Phantom.

"Then we shall begin." She nodded to the musicians. Erik thought, rather too critically, that he could have done a much better job at the instruments, but the procession started and his judgmental thoughts were interrupted.

_This is happening,_ he told himself. _This is actually happening._

Meg entered wearing a very flattering silver dress. She was pretty, but the tall, beautiful elf next to her outshone the poor girl easily.

_This isn't a dream; this is really, actually happening._

Maria then came, dressed in silver as well. Her face looked like it didn't know whether to be laughing or not.

_This is real. This is one hundred percent real. There is no way this is a dream…this cannot possibly be real. This is definitely a dream; there's no other explanation for it. _

Erik's thoughts changed dramatically the moment Amme entered. Her dress was simple and flowing. The sapphire necklace hung around her pale neck. Her hair was piled into a loose bun with white roses braided into it, making a crown from which the veil fluttered down. A bouquet of red roses she held in her hands, and her face was aglow with joy and excitement.

Erik had thought she was beautiful before, but this was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

-

"Hey." Amme tapped the Phantom lightly on the shoulder. "You awake?"

Erik started out of his daydreams. "What? Oh, yes—I'm awake."

"Good." She took little Eric, who was _not_ awake, off his lap. "You know, you give a new meaning to the phrase: 'could do something in your sleep.'"

"I was just thinking."

"Your thoughts _are_ fascinating," Amme admitted. "But I never understand them. But please, don't let that stop you from telling them to me."

Erik chuckled.

Then a shy voice whispered, "Daddy?" And Melody toddled in.

"I thought you were asleep, Melody," Amme said fondly.

Melody looked confused for a moment. "But…Daddy needs to say 'night to me. He hasn't yet," she added.

Again, Erik chuckled. "Alright, angel." He picked her up easily, and carried her back to the children's room. "This time you stay here," he whispered, kissing her lightly on her smooth black hair.

"I love you, Daddy," Melody said, curling up under her blanket.

Erik blinked. He had never gotten used to people saying that to him. "…I love you too, angel. Good night."

Beside him, Amme was putting little Eric to bed. She looked up and smiled at him. "Is she asleep?"

Erik glanced down. "Or very good at faking it."

"Hmm…." Amme covered Violet up again; she had kicked all the blankets off. "So, what were you thinking about before?"

He shrugged. "Our wedding."

She looked at him mischievously. "Speaking of which, you know our two year anniversary is tomorrow?"

"Of course." An idea struck him. "Would you like your present now or later?"

Amme held up a ruby necklace she was wearing. "I told you not to get me anything. Not after how much you spent last year."

They began walking: Erik purposely going back to the organ. "I like giving you things. What's wrong with that?"

"You like giving your children things as well," Amme said severely. "You're going to spoil them. And you'll leave _me_ to fix it!"

"They're only three months old. I don't think they're in any danger."

"At the moment," she allowed.

Erik, however, was not going to be sidetracked any longer. "So, do you want your present now?"

"How much did you spend on it?" She asked wearily.

He sat at his organ. "Depends on what you're talking about. No money, if that's worries you."

Amme eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes." He grinned evilly.

Amme backed up. "I…think I should check on the children."

Erik raised an eyebrow. Glancing over, he saw Starlight give a cat eye roll. The two of them exchanged conspiratorial looks, and Starlight shot off.

Amme knew perfectly well why she was hurrying away: the Phantom's presents to her tended to make her blush in embarrassment. So she used her children as an excuse to get out of it.

A black shape darted by her, knocking her off balance. Once Amme regained her footing, she discovered something was around her waist, and she couldn't move forward. She glanced down to see a rope trailing from her waist to the other end, which her "loving" husband held.

"You _lassoed_ me?" She asked incredulously.

"Indeed." He grinned again, and started reeling her in.

"I don't _believe_ you!" Amme grumbled, finding herself sitting comfortably on his lap.

"Believe it." He began to play a few notes. "I wrote this specially for you."

"Oh, no!" Amme moaned again, hiding her flaming cheeks in her hands.

"_You'll always be a part of my heart_

_Today, tomorrow, forever_

_I've know this from the start_

_And I think you've known it too_

_One day out of the blue I caught a glimpse of you_

_And the song is still playing_

_When I tell you all this, there's no word that's amiss_

_Amme, it's you_

_Every time I see you I go through_

_The strangest kind of feeling_

_It's the same way for you_

_I can tell from what I see_

_Soft as a candle's light shinning in the cold night_

_It's as solemn as praying_

_You'll always be a part of my love's beating heart_

_It's you, Amme"_

Amme realized she was crying softly. "Oh," she said again.

Lightly, Erik brushed his lips against her hair. "I love you, Amme Destler, more than anything."

Amme smiled and put her arms around him. Kissing him on the lips, she then said, "I love you, too."

I really couldn't resist putting Kevin in one last time.

Thanks to my brother, again, for writing the song (Erik, you liar!)

Thanks to everyone who's put up with my insanity and read this far

Special thanks to everyone who's reviewed!


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